


I'll Be Good

by imhereforbvcky



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 48,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13004922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imhereforbvcky/pseuds/imhereforbvcky
Summary: You’re an old colleague of Natasha’s who finds herself face to face with the Winter Soldier on the wrong end of an Avengers’ op.





	1. Chapter 1

This was a pretty simple mission. The interrogation last week had been fruitful and the small team were now en route to the drop off site. It was an illegal weapons trade, their goal was to stop it and capture the leaders. They had the most adept team available and it should have been simple – Clint was pilot and as usual the tactical eyes in the field. Bucky and Nat would take out the security, clearing a path for Steve to apprehend the organizers. Routine.

They landed in a heavily wooded area a mile from the site of the deal. The four of them left the jet and started making their way in when a long-range shot skimmed a nearby tree. As the team ducked for cover, Natasha examined the fresh wound on her left arm just inches above a very similar scar she had obtained a few years earlier. “Shit,” she mumbled thinking _If that was Y/N, that was a warning shot, and Y/N won’t be so generous with the rest of my team._

_”_ Clint, do you have eyes on that shooter?” Steve asked over the comms.

“The forest is too dense here, I can’t see shit until we get closer to the village.” Clint descended from a tall sentinel pine, failing to find a better vantage point.

“I’ve got it,” Nat breathed into the comm. Nervous. It had been years since she’d run into Y/N, and the stakes were even higher now since everything in D.C. and Vienna. Connections like Y/N were risky if left unchecked.

Approaching the area the shots came from, she circled wide, knowing Y/N’s strategy. Nat saw the trademark box of explosives and her jaw clenched instinctively. _Definitely Y/N. “_ Barnes I could use a hand with this one.”

* * *

 You sat patiently in your secondary perch waiting, a dark smirk pulling at your lips as you looked down the scope.  This was always your favorite part. Fire a few shots from a decoy location to draw out your target and they always approached so cautiously when they saw the box of goodies you left behind. So deliciously slow. Somewhere deep in their instinctive, fear-driven brains they knew that they’re walking into a trap and they just froze, like timid deer at a bait-box. And you, ever the patient hunter, would need only wait.

* * *

“What’s the matter? This looks like a standard scouting set-up. You could take him down in your sleep.” Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion, he watched Natasha carefully, jogging over to her. He couldn’t understand the way her sharp green eyes darted around the forest. Was that fear?

“I know this one. She’s far from standard issue. She fired at us from that berm but she won’t be there now. She’s up on that ridge…”

“So let’s go.” He said calmly turning to head up the rocky surface still clearly confused as to why she had called for him. Natasha gripped his forearm.

“Not that simple, soldier,” she warned. “I said I know her. She’s already seen me, she’ll know I’m coming her way if she doesn’t see me approach her trap,“ Natasha muttered quickly, giving him a cautious look. “I’ll be enough to distract her, while you go straight for her location.” 

Bucky protested the idea of Nat walking into the trap but she interrupted him, “She won’t kill me. But you better hurry, if she shoots me again you owe me a new suit.” Natasha smirked at him, nudging his shoulder, hoping he didn’t see her nervousness. _She might not kill me, but her next shot would be meant to incapacitate_.  

He just nodded, cool as ever. “Just…” She started, chewing her lip for a moment, unsure of what Steve was going to say and do about this huge fucking gamble she was about to make. “Just, if you can avoid it… please… don’t kill her.”

* * *

When you saw her red hair approaching you huffed out a sharp breath. _God damn it, Nat, I warned you._ You didn’t want to hurt her, would never kill her, but you had a job and you would need to at least get her off the field or you’d lose your own head. These arms dealers supplied you with pretty new toys but they got so damn grumpy when things got messy. Good thing you were tidy, and very efficient.

You lowered your shoulder to the rifle, sighing softly, disappointed that she hadn’t heeded your warning. You took aim at her hip – it would hurt like hell but she’d make it back to her aircraft and heal just fine. Eventually. You took a slow careful breath, ready to release the air slowly while gently squeezing the trigger when you heard a low unfamiliar whirring noise behind you to your left. You rolled to your right just as a metal fist shattered the boulder you and your rifle were resting on. A tall, broad man with a metal arm loomed over you. His stern blue eyes just inches from your own ferocious stare. _The Winter Soldier. Now this IS interesting! What have you been up to Natasha?_

In a second you curled your knees to your chest, feet landing just above his hipbones. You forced your legs up and out from your body, thrusting him over your head. _Jesus, he’s heavy_ , you thought as you rolled sideways and sprang back to your feet.

He didn’t go far before rolling gracefully to his feet and pouncing for your throat. You blocked his hands, his knees, his fierce kicks again and again dodging the flurry of attacks. But he was strong and this dance was forcing your back to the rock face. He didn’t allow you time to reach for the myriad of weapons attached to your body before the next limb came at you like a sledgehammer. _He’s had a lot of time to practice, I suppose. Smart of Nat to send an unfamiliar opponent._

You jumped up using a low branch for leverage, and wrapped your legs around his neck intending to use the momentum from your body weight to force him to the ground but he’d anticipated it. _Got it, he knows Nat’s moves. Don’t use those._ But it was too late for that. He’d caught you, turning with your momentum so your back slammed into the wall of rock to his left. It knocked the air out of your lungs and your vision went black for several seconds from the impact of your head on the granite. It was long enough for Nat to pounce up a few boulders shove your head to your shoulder and jam a needle into your neck. You were still gulping for air as she emptied the syringe. _When did she even get up here?_ you thought before your muscles went slack, your vision blurred and finally blackened. _Shit._

* * *

“Where the hell are you two?” Cap hissed over the comm. Bucky shot Natasha a look, raising his eyebrows as he carried Y/N back to the jet over his shoulder at a brisk pace.

“On our way,” Nat replied, not breaking eye contact with Bucky. He set her in a chair and Nat cuffed her hands and ankles to the jet with zip ties before setting back out into the field at a full run. Natasha knew she was jeopardizing the mission and her teammates’ safety . But it was Y/N. Steve had to understand.

With Y/N out of the way the rest of the mission was a cakewalk. With their scout out of commission, Bucky and Natasha took out their security forces with little effort. Clint had covered Steve while they were incapacitating Natasha's past.

After Steve triumphantly handed the dealers over to the prosecuting authority the team started back to the jet.

“Steve? Wecapturedthesniper," Nat blurted quickly. His head snapped to his left, gaping at her. “She’s in restraints on the jet, we…”

“YOU WHAT???” He demanded, rounding on her, his incredulous glare shifting between her and Bucky.

“It was all me,” she said, looking apologetically to Barnes. “I know her Steve. I knew it was her as soon as she made that shot. I had to bring her in.”

He scoffed and brought his hand to his forehead, pinched the bridge of his nose sighing in frustration. “Are we really back here again, Nat? You compromised the mission! Your teammates…”

“I know that, I made a decision. Steve, just listen to me. She’s my friend. We were at the Red Room together. We looked out for each other… we have a lot of history. Not all of it good, but I can’t turn my back on her.”

“I don’t even know who she is or what she’s done! I can’t take her back to the compound. I won’t protect her, she’s a criminal.”

“So was I when Clint brought me in! So was Barnes, hell so were you after the Accords! Steve I’m asking you to trust me. Please. Put her in containment but let me talk to her. Frankly, we need her. Our intel has been running dry since we exposed SHIELD’s secrets. All of our informants were compromised or are now too afraid to talk to us. Y/N still has a strong network in that world, one we need if we want to keep the upper hand. This is an opportunity. Let me bring her in. Please.”

He stared at her hard, lips pressed in a thin line. Obviously angry she hadn’t consulted him first. “Steve. Please.”

“Alright. Let’s go,” he sighed finally. “But eventually you will have to give us some answers about her. Honest ones.”

Nat only nodded. Nervous again. Her worlds were colliding and that thought was making her very uncomfortable. She slid into the front passenger seat next to Clint holding the gauze on her freshly cleaned wound, glancing back at Y/N.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, leveling with her, like he always did, like only he could.

“We go way back. I had to do something. You did the same for me once.”

“I didn’t have to sedate and restrain you to convince you, though.” He said cocking his eyebrow.

She sighed looking back at Y/N again. He was right; this wasn’t going to be easy. Not for anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team now tries to get their bearings back at the compound while you try to make the most your captivity.

“Let me talk to her! Steve, I can bring her to our side on this. She’ll listen to me. She’s been out on her own too long but she’ll listen to me. She’ll trust me.” Natasha called after him, almost running behind his long deliberate strides.

“That’s just it, Nat, you don’t know where her loyalties are anymore! She’s been against us for at least, what, 4 years?” Steve huffed out throwing his arms out to his sides, incredulous. “She shot you less than 24 hours ago!”

“Oh please it’s nothing. And you know that’s not fair, people with our skills… we don’t have many options… Just let me talk to her. She could have just as easily put that bullet in my brain. She spared me, Steve. She can help us, but you have to let ME talk to her.” She was pleading. Begging. Bucky had never seen Natasha beg for anything. What is it with this woman? Was Nat afraid of what this sniper might reveal about her own past or was she trying to protect the sniper? Why was she fighting so hard? Curiosity getting the better of him, Bucky followed.

“That’s not the point. We can’t trust her. And more importantly, I can’t trust your judgment when it comes to her.”

“Just because you don’t know everything doesn’t mean you can’t trust me.” Natasha countered, challenging him. They’d been through a lot, Steve and Natasha. She’d stood by him when he found Bucky all those years ago. She’d attacked a goddamn king for him, for Bucky. Would he really dare to tell her she couldn’t talk to her friend? Bucky saw the resolution flash across Steve's face. _Goddamnit he’s so stubborn._

“I’ll go,” Bucky said quiet but firm, turning before they could protest. Ending the discussion before it turned bitter.

* * *

The sharp pain radiating through your shoulders was the first feeling you acknowledged as you returned to consciousness. Next was the stiffness in your neck. You knew better than to groan, lest you draw the attention of your captors. Your hands were tethered behind you, hence the pain. Your feet, too, were strapped to the chair. _She’s being cautious_ , you realized. You blinked your eyes rapidly trying to clear away the blurriness. You slowly raised your head to take in the room. 

 _Standard interrogation room. Two-way mirror, cameras on the other side, no doubt. Audio recorders dotted the upper corners. High tech, though. Stark’s forgiven you then, has he?_ Other than that the room was completely blank. You sat on a steel grey chair opposite a steel grey table and 2 more steel grey chairs. Nothing but pale grey walls around you. _No locator cues or hints at time of day. Classic interrogation. Disorientation, sleep deprivation, painful body positioning. These Avengers are just as bad as the others_ _._  You wondered mainly what time it was and how long you would wait for your first interrogator. You let your head fall backwards with a sigh. Waiting. You knew how to play this one. Victim. These vainglorious “heroes” would never resist a damsel in distress. 

So you waited, suppressing your smirk and perfecting your terrified pout. Expecting Captain America to melt under whatever tale of woe your quivering, pouting lips would expel. After nearly an hour the electronic melody of a keypad was followed by the heavy thud of a metal lock as the Winter Soldier stepped silently through the door carrying a tray of food. _Damn. This won’t be as easy._

He paused at the door watching you. Unreadable. _He’s not in combat gear anymore so we’ve been here at least a few hours._ He set down the tray without a word and pulled a chair over to your side of the table, tearing a piece of bread and lifting it to you. You took it slowly, not taking your eyes off his, watching him for any reaction, any in, any leverage. 

“How long?” you asked in Russian as he held up another piece for you. The Russian was a calculation. You wanted to gauge his response but he gave you nothing. 

He didn’t respond right away and you didn’t take the food. “16 hours,” he replied eventually in English, ending your stalemate. Yo we’re still watching him, hoping for any information you could use to get out of here. _I see Russian still makes you uncomfortable, makes you feel like the tense soldier-prisoner. I know THAT feeling, buddy._

You nodded to the water on the table and he brought it to your lips. You could feel him watching you closely, something flashed across his features, but was it caution or interest? You decided to make the bold play. You pulled your lips away from the glass half a second before he tipped it back up, spilling a little and allowing the water to drizzle down your throat, pooling at your collarbone before disappearing beneath your shirt. His stormy blue eyes followed the water and you breathed in a strategic, but unnecessarily deep breath as it hit your chest. He swallowed hard and turned back to the table abruptly. Your eyes flashed with satisfaction while his face is turned away from you. _Interest then._

But then you found that you couldn’t help but notice how his heavy chest swelled when he drew in a deep breath of his own and the way the muscles in his forearm moved under his smooth skin as he tore off a fresh piece of bread. You noticed your pulse jump as his thumb swept across your lip pushing away the moisture left from the water glass.

All your training set your brain on high alert, screaming for you to regain control. You were staring up at his piercing blue eyes, only they were not as sharp as they seemed when you had met him before out on that ridge. Their expression was soft and disarming, and you were panicking. _Definitely interest, want even,_ you realized as he paused watching your lips. _I can use this_. 

Just like that, without even trying really, you snapped back into your perpetual hunt. You could barely suppress the smirk, knowing you had him in your pocket when Captain Virtue stormed in, spoiling both your fun and the best shot of escape you’d had yet.

* * *

Bucky knew she was toying with him. Looking for an exit strategy, a weakness. He had been trained enough to know not to give her one. But she was irresistible, and it wasn’t just her big keen eyes or languid form. She had looked so small, so vulnerable when he first saw her in the interrogation room. Nat had insisted on stripping her of her weapons of course, but they had also taken most of her combat gear, fearing hidden weapons. She was tethered to the chair in her compression pants and a tank, shivering and worn, blinking hard against the harsh lights designed to disorient. He could see she was trying to pout and look the martyr, but beneath that… he could also see her sharp eyes calculating risks. He couldn’t forget the way she had anticipated his every move in the field, dauntless. Even here defeated and alone, he knew she must be restless and desperate, but he watched her push it down. 

He knew what caused that kind of relentless determination: a fear so blinding and painful that it dulled fear of anything else. His time as the Winter Soldier had been decades of that same determination. Watching this perfect stranger, he couldn’t help his desire to hold her, to lift her in his arms and whisper that he would protect her, that she didn’t need to be tough anymore. _Jesus, what is the matter with me, I don’t even know her._

But something about her perpetually defensive body language, the familiar scarring across her body called to him. She had been used. Maybe not in the same way he had, but enough. Enough that it would take more than just a stern word from Steve to pull her back from the abyss. Nat was in over her head. Bucky knew what painful things women who came from the Red Room had experienced and done. But that look, that vacant look, that slump of the shoulders, the way Y/N’s head slunk back before he had entered the room. He KNEW that look. Deeply and intimately, and he would do anything to draw it away from her. She may be a deadly assassin, and she might always be fearsome, but if he could help it, she need not always be haunted by the violence in her eyes.

* * *

“Who the hell is she?” Tony demanded, looking directly, harshly at Steve. “Captain?” Rogers just looked at Nat, nodding slightly pushing her to explain.

“Hello?!” Tony roared with a look of irritation. Nat didn’t respond either, watching Barnes interacting with Y/N through the glass. “I don’t remember agreeing to hold hostages in my HOME!” he bellowed at Steve. Glaring next at Nat. “What the hell is that girl doing tied down in my building?” No response. “I won’t ask again. Who the hell is she?”

With a sigh Nat turned to Tony arms crossed over her chest. “A friend.”

“A _friend_?! A friend. Of course. It shouldn’t surprise me that the two of you have to wrangle your friends in here in secret and under duress.” He huffed looking conspicuously at Barnes and Y/N through the glass. Steve bristled at that, finally turning to Tony with a tired expression. “Is she even in the country legally?” He asked looking between Nat, Steve, and the screen, zoomed in on Y/N’s tired features.

No one said anything, no one made a move.

“Oh come on!” Tony raged, “Last I checked, we weren’t in the business of taking _hostages_!” Yelling now, “We’re supposed to be _defending_ people! Not abducting and imprisoning them!” Now he was seething. Speaking low and intense, inches from Steve’s face, “So you’re going to tell me who the hell is being held on my property right now or I’m turning all four of you over to Ross.”

“Shit,” Natasha hissed, seeing Barnes lean toward Y/N’s greedy eyes, his fingers brushing across her jaw. _Well she knows what she’s doing. As always._ Nat couldn’t help but chuckle seeing Rogers spring into action, striding briskly into the interrogation room.  
Barnes jerked away, color creeping up his neck and cheeks, but Y\N was even as ever, lips curling in dragging between her teeth, tongue darting out to lick her lips quickly, practically pouting at Barnes as she watched him through her thick dark lashes. He was completely enraptured. _Damn she’s good._  

As Steve entered the room, all business, with Nat at his heels, the tone of the room shifted. Bucky slid out exchanging a hard look with Steve while Y/N settled into her more familiar snake-like posture - coiled, patient, ready to strike. This was going to be a dangerous dance, one Natasha felt she had to win or everyone would lose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still captive in Avengers interrogation, you finally get your chance to negotiate, but really with you, it’s more like manipulate.

_Damn. This is disorienting. I’ve played this all wrong._ You thought seeing the mistrust and anger play across Steve Rogers’ face as his best friend pulled away from you. Others saw Bucky Barnes as Captain America’s greatest weakness but you knew better. Steve watched Bucky like a hawk, and all of the hero’s self-righteous inhibitions fell away when it came to his best friend. That made him all the more dangerous. And he had just caught you red handed trying to manipulate Bucky.

 _Shit._ Your damsel in distress routine would come across thin and reaching now. _New tactic,_ you thought shifting quickly back into the careful predator. Captain Rogers had entered glaring at you, immediately paused, and turning pointedly, gave his best friend a harsh look. A warning. You could swear you saw Bucky return it with equal ferocity before he looked at you with a gentler expression, and slipped out.

 _Alright, you want the villain, Captain, I’ll give it to you. I’ll let you have every dark thread you can get your hands on._ Your best hope now was that honesty would catch him off guard. Your options were severely limited when Nat had followed him in, you knew she would see through anything less than the truth. You didn’t think she would truly give you up to these strangers but then again they weren’t strangers to her. She had exposed so many of her secrets after the events in D.C. at this man’s command, you just couldn’t be sure. It had been unnerving to see her exposed like that. And here you were tied to a chair, watching her sharp green eyes watching you over an interrogation table. This was why you preferred anonymity when you worked. Natasha was a dangerous friend to have but an absolutely lethal enemy. You knew you had to take control fast.

You watched him carefully as he approached the table. You kept your face completely blank.  “Natasha thinks you can help us,” he started, loud, trying to be threatening, “but I think you’ve been working for a lot of bad people for a long time. So here’s how…”

You tilted your gaze away from him slow and deliberate. “You let him call you ‘Natasha’?” you ask her in Russian. It was a power play. You knew full well that she let everyone think they were close enough to use the familiar name with her. But it put Rogers on his heels. You dismissed his demand before he could even finish saying it and he couldn’t keep up now. All he could do was watch Nat and implore her to steer the conversation back to English.

With jaw clenched, he glared at you, you could feel it even though your hard gaze never left Nat. She didn’t answer because how could she? If she answered in Russian he wouldn’t trust her, if she answered in English it would be a lie. You let the silence hang in the air, fill the room, and drown it. Your body might have been defenseless just then, but the room was yours.

“I know what you want Captain Rogers,” you said finally, still watching Nat, who had by then raised her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. Clearly she was hoping you’d play nice. Clearly she’d forgotten why you work alone – you weren’t the only one who preferred it that way. “You want me to tell you everything I know about all of your enemies, you want me to help you beat them into oblivion, and you want me to be contrite about my past while I do these things, morally compelled to help you so that you don’t have to feel bad about holding me hostage.”

Nat was completely at a loss.  Her head fell back to the wall, she closed her eyes in utter exasperation. You held your breath, he would either take the honesty you offered him or reject your insubordination and you would never leave that room.

You finally turned your eyes back to Rogers, turning your whole head, your entire body tense, ready to strike despite your obvious helplessness. He was just watching you coolly. All of the anger had dissipated and you could barely believe it, but he smirked and shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Something like that, yeah,” he replied, bringing his blue-green eyes up to yours.

You were honestly surprised that that had worked so well. You were damn good but that was a Hail Mary play. You kept your face even, listening. Nat slowly lowered her head watching him with as much shock on her face as you felt below the surface.

“Look. The fact is we don’t trust each other right now and that’s not going to change the longer we keep glaring at each other. So if you give me some intel right now that we can verify I’ll give you free reign within the compound…”

“House arrest,” you snapped.

“We both know you could easily disappear under those conditions so not really, no. After that you’ll help train the team regularly. Bring in a new combat perspective,” he added. “Nat thinks your network out there is invaluable, so eventually, when we trust each other, we can bring your strategic knowledge into the field. Missions. Sound fair?”

“Oh how flattering Nat, my knowledge of the seedy underworld is unparalleled huh?” you quipped, again in Russian. Steve looked to Nat again unsure, but this time Nat laughed, shaking her head.

“I think Barnes has a few years of experience on you,” she answered softly in Russian. It was a signal that she might be an Avenger now but your history still stood. She didn’t bring you here to hurt you.

“What he can remember.” You defended, Nat chuckled but gave you a sharp warning look. You were skirting the line.

“Alright,” you agreed looking Steve in the eye and holding his gaze, “what do you want to know?”

At that Nat slipped out of the room, and you continued with Rogers alone.

* * *

As Nat padded out of the interrogation room exhaling heavily, exhausted from the tension, the possible disaster averted, Stark grabbed her arm harshly pulling her back into the observation room.

“I still need a name, Romanoff. I’m glad you all made a truce, if that’s what this is, but if she’s staying here,” he hissed, dropping Natasha’s arm and pointing sharply at Y/N through the glass, “ I want to see her record.”

“She goes by Y/F/N Y/L/N but you won’t find any records. Not even a whisper. That was the whole point of her.” Nat looked at him through tired eyes, sighing heavily when she saw he wouldn’t let it go. “I can tell you that we trained together, we were all orphans in the Red Room but she was kept in isolation, even from the rest of us. Then as agents, my handlers allowed me to accumulate infamy from my missions to intimidate potential enemies. But where I built a reputation, she was all the more effective for not having one. There are no records of her at all so that her targets can never see her coming. She’s a shadow.”

“Then how can you trust her?”

“I’m not sure we should trust her. But at least now we can see her.” Natasha said resting a hand on Tony’s shoulder before walking calmly out of the room and off to get some overdue rest.

Bucky stood in the shadows of the control room a few feet away soaking in the conversation he’d just overheard, ruminating over the words. He had been right. Natasha’s description of Y/N’s training and field use explained why he’d gravitated to her, had felt connected to her without having exchanged more than a few words. 

She had been brainwashed and isolated and made to feel like nothing more than a cold, hard weapon. She might make her own decisions now but the way Natasha talked about her… Even Nat couldn’t help but see her as collateral in the never-ending fight. Y/N really was alone, maybe more than she realized. Bucky had had Steve to help him find himself again over the years, who did she have? Natasha? She was a closed off as Y/N and clearly couldn’t separate Y/N from the weapon she had been made to be.

No. That wasn’t good enough. Bucky saw Y/N as a chance at redemption. It had taken years to let go of all of the things he had done. But if he was honest about it, all that time under Hydra’s control, there was a part of him that was aware of the things he had done, even if he couldn’t stop it. He was still sure that if that part of him had been stronger… He couldn’t linger on those thoughts. He could, however, help Y/N now. Help her actually do what he couldn’t then: _choose_ to stop being the weapon, _choose_ to be human. If only he could stop her from running.

* * *

“I hope you understand, I have to leave you here a little longer while we confirm this. We’ll have a fresh team start on it now.” Steve said, with a curt not. He looked sympathetic, but you doubted if it was genuine.

“Whatever makes you sleep better, Captain.” You really couldn’t be bothered to placate him on this point while the pain of the restrains was still pulsing through your joints.

He made his exit and the door closed with a heavy thud, the electronic song of the lock was your cue to relax. Your shoulders dropped slightly; you tilted your head back, and finally closed your eyes, letting out a slow, measured breath. To say you were exhausted did not begin to cover it. Your body still ached from your fight with the Winter Soldier, your joints screamed from lack of movement now, and your mind had been working in overdrive since you’d spotted Nat in the forest who knows how many time zones ago. You just wanted to sleep.

Groaning loudly you rolled your head back to the door when you heard the keypad again not 5 minutes later. The glint of a knife was enough to send the last drops of adrenaline into your veins. You stiffened instinctively, clenching your jaw. _Now THIS is the kind of interrogation I’m used to._ You think to yourself, too tired now to try to suppress the cynical fear to look for solutions, like you knew you should. You focused instead on drawing every morsel of your energy into looking stronger than you felt.

The soldier stepped closer, hands in the air gesturing at innocence, but still holding the blade. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he intoned, nodding in your direction. You didn’t move, watching him unblinking.

He grimaced, realizing how this must have looked to you before leaning swiftly over you, cutting the zip ties that bound your hands to the chair. He was hovering just inches from your tangled hair and you heard him take a slow deep breath. You couldn’t stop yourself from noticing the thick wall of muscle before you as he did, his warm smell flooding the space around you. You couldn’t make sense of this at all. He pulled back from you slowly, dipping to one knee to cut your ankles free. He watched you for a reaction, and then backed away a few steps.

Deciding not to question your new freedom, you groaned as you slowly swung your arms in a wide arc, bringing them to test in front of you. “Shit.” Hunching over you rubbed the knotted muscles in your shoulder. You thought you had maybe drawn him in a little bit earlier, that he might have told you something useful, but you hadn’t expected it would bring him back over 30 minutes later, to let you go, against Roger’s orders. _What is his motivation?_

“Come on. You can shower in my room. Then we’ll get you something to eat. Tony will have a room set up for you by tomorrow.”

You were eyeing him warily, “But Captain Rogers said he needed to confirm…”

“Steve’s a punk,” he cut you off with a smirk, the smile creeping up to his clear blue eyes. “Come on,” he said, helping you to your feet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes behind Steve’s back to release you, and you use your new freedom to finally relax.

Bucky walked in front of you, silent and swift, leading the way through endless corridors. The technology around you was impressive. _Nat must love it here_ , you thought with a wistful smile, technology was always her thing. _We could really do some damage together with resources like this…_ The smile faded as quickly as it had come. _Maybe once. A long time ago._

Moving softly through the halls, the quiet darkness was telling. This evening stroll with the Winter Soldier was definitely off the record. Your eyes flashed across each surface that you passed. You were trying to soak up all the information you could about your surroundings, but you were exhausted. It had been almost 36 hours since you had left your quiet empty flat half a world away, and you had spent most of that time in rather uncomfortable confinement. Your joints ached with the intense stiffness that followed prolonged immobility. It was nothing you hadn’t experienced before, but it had been a while.

Finally Bucky stopped in front of an open door and gestured for you to enter. A light came on as you walked through and you immediately surveyed the room. It was instinct, you hadn’t even thought about what you were doing. Sometimes it surprised even you how machine-like you could be. _Exits: balcony is optimal, entry door secondary. Likely weapons: bedside table, dresser, possibly under the bathroom sink. Leverage: ? ? ?_ You came up empty on that point, there were no personal items at all, no photos, no old family relics, nothing expensive. Blank.

Your sweep must have lingered too long because when your eyes finally settled back to Bucky he was watching you carefully while reaching into a drawer. “I don’t keep any weapons in here,” he said, setting a t-shirt onto the sweats and towel he was already placing into your hands.

“Sorry. Habit.” You shrugged, eyeing him warily.

“I know. I remember.” He answered back quiet but sure. He met your gaze and held it. It was a little unnerving, his blue-grey eyes peering into yours. He knew exactly what your habits were because they had once been his habits. Survival skills of the un-trusting and untrustworthy. His even stare only served to remind you that he could see right through your carefully constructed barriers.

You were too tired for this. Reaching a hand up to massage your stiff neck, you nodded toward the other interior door. “Shower’s through there?” You knew exactly where the shower was, but asking him got those damn eyes off of you.

He nodded, “I’ll uh be out here.” You slid past him into the bathroom. “I know you’ve already made a mental map of the place, noted strategic exits and all that,” he added, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So I’m sure you can make it to the kitchen when you’re done, yeah?” He asked casually, leaning into the partially closed door.

“What, no gold-plated GPS trackers to guide me?“ You pulled down your hair, shaking it out, "I thought this was a Stark outfit.” You fired back, matching his playful tone.

Bucky seemed frozen for just a moment, watching you, his eyes traveling over your hair and down the length of your body. “Afraid not.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his lingering look and laughed softly while he made to leave but you called out to him, “What do I call you, then?” He seemed confused so you turned to face him, resting your hands on the edge of the sink behind you. “Well I can’t just call you The Winter Soldier.” His smile faltered, “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

“It’s just Bucky,” he answered as he turned from you closing the door with a quiet click.

As soon as you heard it you ran a hand through your hair, tugging slightly. _What the hell was that about?_ You couldn’t make sense of this, so you had pushed. Pulling on threads you knew would keep him at a safer distance.

It was your nature to mistrust everyone around you until you could sort them into clean categories of motive and skill. You were very familiar with his skills; the fresh bruising across your skin from your earlier scuffle was evidence enough. What you couldn’t identify were his motives. His motives for helping you, for the familiar tone, the jokes, any of it.

With the last ounces of energy left in your sore, stiff muscles you washed your hair and scrubbed yourself clean while pondering your situation and the best course of action. You were definitely stuck here, at least until you could convince Rogers to let you out on a mission. This place was too remote, and it was teeming with enhanced or expertly trained individuals. You made your decision quickly; too exhausted to consider the challenge of a break-out run with much sincerity. Better to learn from them: absorb what skills you could from each Avenger while simultaneously cataloging their unique weaknesses should you ever meet them in opposition later.

Finally decided, it was time for your post-op ritual. The last drops of adrenaline had left your body now and you were coming down. Hard. The water was scalding, pouring down your back. You finally let yourself relax, focusing on the tension slowly slipping out of our body. It wasn’t easy for you, never had been. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back, and focused on relaxing every muscle in your body, one at a time, calming your racing thoughts at the same time, until the tension was gone.

You finally dried yourself, wrapped the towel around you, and stood before the mirror. Drawing in a slow, shaky breath, you lifted your right hand. _Now for the hard part_. Your fingertips traced the thick black ink embedded into the skin on the inside of your left bicep as you breathed out the word that marked your skin: Тень. _Shadow._

Next you ran a single finger over the first thin line below the word and pressed your eyes tightly closed. _Blue eyes, name: Nastia_. Then stroking the second line… _So small, too small. Better in ballet than me though._ You kept going… the 7th line… _old man, soft brown eyes…_ The 10th… _short blonde hair, … shit I can’t remember a second thing._ Without realizing, your nails were driving into the flesh where the 10th line marked your skin. _Come on, think of something!_

You wanted to scream. You _needed_ to remember. Tears were threatening at your eyelids, but you held them back. You were Y/F/N Y/L/N, and you would remember them all. You were just so _tired_. _Marcus! He had short blonde hair and his name was Marcus._ You sighed with some relief but trudged on, knowing that the weight that had settled deep in your chest wouldn’t let up until you finished… _Eleven…_

* * *

The muffled sound of rapid footsteps had been enough to wake him. He had been waiting for the sound all night, ready for Steve’s panic. Shifting up in the chair where he’d spent the night, he glanced over at his bed where you were still curled on your side, sleeping quietly.

He’d had a moment of near panic himself last night when you hadn’t come out after your shower. He worried that you’d slipped away despite your agreement to stay here, safe and somewhat free. After 30 minutes of debating, he had made his way back, only to find you asleep on his bed. You hadn’t even made it under the blanket. He’d found you lying on your side with your left arm curled under your head, and the dark pattern of the tattoo on your upper arm had caught his eye. He’d softly pushed the sleeve of the t-shirt up to your shoulder and read the word, examined the row of thin black lines stretching nearly to your elbow and wondered what it could possibly mean.

Now in the morning light he rubbed his eyes, preparing for the argument he was about to have with his exceptionally stubborn best friend. Rising to his feet, he quietly slipped into the hallway. He caught Steve just as he was about to return to his room to prepare for a manhunt.

“Dammit. Y/N’s gone. I don’t even know how she broke containment, the security footage stops right after I left her. Will you get Nat up? I’m gonna call Sam off from verifying Y/N’s tip, I doubt it’s any good.” He rattled off the orders with mild irritation as he strode briskly past Bucky down the hall.

“She’s not gone.” Bucky called after him.

“What?” Steve turned, his expression moving from confusion to vexation in an instant. “Where is she?” By now Natasha had slipped out of her room and into the hall.

“She’s sleeping.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, defiant and sure. “I brought her up here to get cleaned up and get some real sleep.”

“What?!” Steve boomed.

“Well that was risky,” Nat murmured. “She’s really got you wound up, Barnes.”

Bucky gave her a harsh look, before turning back to level with Steve, “No, I just thought I was done with holding hostages and illegal interrogations when I left Hydra.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While your initial intel is verified, which should lead to your freedom, you also can’t help getting into trouble, much to the frustration of those trying to help you

The tense voices in the hall pulled you reluctantly from your sleep. You listened, hovering by the door. It hadn’t surprised you that the argument was about you. You slipped silently into the hall, watching, absorbing.

“I have a duty to this team, Buck. She came to us as a hostile, I couldn’t just let her have the run of the place unchecked!” Steve’s anger was rippling below the surface, he was trying to contain it, but his harsh glare and sharp gestures gave him away. Hovering close to Bucky, he continued, prodding Bucky in the chest with all four fingers in a stiff jab “And you shouldn’t have given it to her. You endangered everyone here.”

“No one’s in danger, I was with her the whole time.” He answered back firmly. From your quiet place against the shadowed wall you smiled, at Bucky’s half-truth. “She didn’t come to us at all, we took. her.” Bucky hissed, weighing into the last words.

Like you, Natasha mostly stayed out of it, but where you watched these two friends, scrutinizing which buttons they pushed, what elicited the strongest reaction, you felt her eyes on you.  It hurt a little. She was surveying you with the same measured trepidation with which you watched your captors. She didn’t trust you. Not even Nat.

You drew your lips between you teeth, chewing on the thought. You liked to think of yourself as an opportunist with a penchant for mischief, but had you actually crossed the line into true villainy?

You noticed a new presence enter the fray wearing full combat gear, and some strange sort of harness. _Clearly fresh off an operation_. Your eyes scanned him quickly, instinctually, for weapons.

“As much as I hate to side with Barnes on anything…” the man began with a cold glance toward Bucky, “I’ve got the confirmed file here.” He stopped next to you and handed a manila file to Rogers. “How you doin’?” he asked turning to you with a warm smile.

You raised an eyebrow. “Hi.” You answered, a grin tugging at your lips.

Natasha burst into laughter and you watched her, confused. Shaking her head, she finally looked to the wall of smirking muscle beside you, “You really need a new line, Wilson.”

He laughed with her, “My line is not tired just because you two are clones or some shit. Besides it worked with you, we’re friends.” He said with a wink, turning back to you.

He was making this too easy. You smiled up at him sickly sweet. Nat chuckled darkly. “Don’t even try it, Sam. She’ll eat you alive.”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t look that scary to me.” He answered, practically begging you to prove him wrong. Bucky’s gaze snapped away from the file and over to your conversation.

“That’s the point, sweetheart.” You murmured, pushing off the wall to lean toward him, tilting your head, drawing him in. He raised his eyebrows in surprise; while you had him distracted, your hand ghosted to one of the knife holsters you’d spotted on him earlier. Nat was shooting you sharp warning looks, but you continued, unmoved, each word that rolled off your tongue dripping with menace, “You’d never see me coming.” You quickly flipped his knife in your fingers, making a show of it before slipping it back into his holster.

Sam was quick though, and grabbed your wrist as you guided the knife back to its place against his body. Bucky took one guarded step closer to you both and you heard that beautiful metal purr when his left hand made a rigid fist.

Turning your head towards Bucky, you looked him in the eye for a long moment before taking in his tense posture, with a deliberately slow leer. You lingered on his clenched fist, making sure he knew you hadn’t missed this reaction. _Is he being protective? Now this is fascinating. For someone so lethal, it’s way too easy to push his buttons._

Finally turning back to Sam, you smiled and backed down with a casual shrug, “It’s the dimples. Throws people off.” He reluctantly let go of your wrist, but exchanged a dark look with Nat. You slid back to your place leaning casually against the wall. Nothing but a shadow. Except you couldn’t help smirking with satisfaction.

* * *

Bucky had been arguing with Steve, and hadn’t even noticed her presence until she was smiling up at Sam. He couldn’t help the ripple of irritation that spread across his shoulders when he’d heard Sam’s overt flirting. But even more troublesome was the way Y/N had reacted.

It was surprising and slightly amusing how jealous he’d felt when she had smiled up at Sam, but she had shifted into a coiled and hostile mercenary so fast that he couldn’t even identify when it had happened. Sam had no idea how to handle her fire and she was enjoying it, really enjoying it.

Her eyes flashed with interest and she seemed to come alive as she pushed off the wall to approach him. This was the most active he’d seen her yet, she was electric, jumping at the chance to strike at Sam, who’d done nothing but offer evidence in her favor.

Bucky lost interest in the file completely. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Y/N and Sam, focusing instead on keeping his breathing even.

For the first time it occurred to him that Natasha might be right, that Y/N might have been winding him up, that it might have been dangerous for him to give her free run of the compound. He thought he understood her mindset, the way she worked, but watching how she toyed with Sam took him by surprise. He began to wonder where Y/N began and the villain she was playing at ended. Or was she every bit the villain?

He suddenly realized just how quickly he’d been wiling to believe she was like him and he felt raw and angry. Had she manipulated him then, like she was Sam now? She had flashed Sam’s knife just long enough to taunt him and Natasha whose sharp glare was pleading with Y/N to stop. Nat couldn’t jump in to end her vicious little game without drawing Steve’s attention to it and bringing their whole precarious arrangement down in flames.

Bucky had tensed instinctively when Y/N stepped closer to Sam, moving forward ready for a fight when Sam grabbed her wrist. Bucky wasn’t completely sure which of the two he’d be fighting. She didn’t miss a thing, though. She had slipped the knife back into Sam’s holster and turned back to watch Bucky over her shoulder. The way she was eyeing him now as she stole back to her place against the wall was slow, ruthless, analyzing his every move. It was maddening.

* * *

Steve finally closed the file that Sam had handed to him. The motion drew your attention back to him and away from the dark game you were playing. _Why do I always have to push the line like this?_

It didn’t much matter, he seemed satisfied that you had held up your end of the deal. Now if he held up his you would have freedom within the compound, in exchange for your training insight and further intel. You waited on high alert, watching him.

This was the tipping point. You expected him to keep to his word, but technically, you had broken containment, and that was definitely not part of your deal. So you withheld your relief, watching the Captain carefully. The truth was, no matter how carefully you held and played your cards, you were still essentially captive to his judgment. Toying with this Sam guy like that was definitely a foolish indulgence.

“Alright, Buck.” He said finally, turning to his friend, standing tall, one hand on his hip, the other using the file to point at Bucky, “You’re so eager to help,” then pointing to you, “you can train with her first.”

“Oh this I’ve gotta see!” Sam called out with a full bright grin. You thought you saw Bucky’s jaw clench, the muscle in his cheek twitching at Steve’s words. He was watching you, and not kindly.

Chewing your lip for just a moment, you were torn. Part of you relished the idea of a second go, one where Natasha wouldn’t flood your system with sedatives.

But just moments ago this same man had been arguing for your freedom, he’d released and shielded you for the night at his own risk. Even Natasha hadn’t taken that chance for you. You didn’t want your competitive nature to turn your only apparent ally here against you.

Even more than that, somewhere, simmering beneath your cold, sharp exterior, you were also relishing in Bucky’s jealous reaction just now, and had felt dangerously safe asleep in his bed, and had been pleasantly shocked when he’d treated you like a person, not a weapon or a tool for war.

 _This is dangerous_ , you thought to yourself. Years of swift and brutal punishment had taught you not to get attached. They always either wound up dead or running scared. Your mind drifted to 2…

She had been small and delicate. You’d wondered how in the hell she had ended up in the Red Room, but it didn’t matter in the end. You had your order, your second order and by far more difficult. You had become friends, somehow in that unforgiving place; she was sweet and soft. And that was the point of the order.

_Attachment breeds hesitation and mistakes._

There had been sharp punishment for your failure, your hesitation, but you weren’t the recipient. In the end she’d begged you to kill her, until you finally complied, shaking. With trembling hands, the bullet hadn’t landed with its usual precision. Even when you finally delivered that merciful end, it had been painful and dark.

It might take work to remember the details of the others from time to time, but you would never forget how 2 had looked at you in absolute agony, dying too slowly. Far too slowly.

_Grace is just a weakness. You will be cold. You will be merciless. A shadow._

Your primary instructor had hissed the lesson into your ear as he dragged you back to your isolated cell, trembling and heaving. You could barely mange to keep your feet beneath you, his harsh fingers digging into the raw skin where a fresh thin line burned angry and red and black on the inside of your upper arm.

_Grace is just a weakness. You will wield an iron fist._

You learned. It was not mercy or grace to prolong a target’s inevitable death. Better to embrace the villain that you were, to end things swiftly and quietly. You’d learned that it was easiest, safest to compartmentalize. You were a monster. Unequivocally. But the lessons and rituals that you made into personal mantras allowed you to dissociate just enough to live with yourself.

Without realizing it, your fingertips were tracing the inside of your left arm. Looking again to the man before you, the angry mistrusting look you’d caught there a moment ago had faded. He glanced at the hand on your arm and your fear rose instantly, catching in your throat. You knew the best way to block it. So you decided, like you always did, that isolation would be safer.

Forcing a wicked grin over your features, you winked at Bucky. “See you in twenty.” You turned on your heel but the smile dropped once you were clear of the others. This was going to be painful.

* * *

Bucky’s frustration nearly broke the surface when Steve announced that Y/N should train with him. Seeing how easily she pushed Sam, he had no idea if she’d also been pulling his strings. He couldn’t trust her, and he didn’t trust himself around her. He would need to talk to Steve about it privately before this got out of hand. Natasha would be a better partner for Y/N for now. Nat could see her more clearly and understand her. Hopefully bring her around.

But then there it was again. Y/N shifted so briefly that if he hadn’t been watching her so cautiously just now he would have missed it completely. The way she drew in a sharp breath, how her eyes softened and her brow furrowed. He knew that look. She was somewhere else right now. Remembering, he knew. He _knew_. It was horrible.

Just as quickly the look was gone, she closed her eyes for just a moment before a wild grin pulled at her lips. This time the smile never made it to her eyes, it didn’t quite settle when she winked at him. It was a distraction, a show. All of this was. All of it. “See you in twenty.” She was impossible to pin down. It was infuriating.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha offers you some advice as you prepare for your first training session with Bucky.

The room was dark and clean, all cement and steel and smooth technology. The tall slender man perched in his chair seemed to fit like an extension of the room. He leaned forward in his chair, uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “What do you mean you didn’t make the transfer?” he asked quietly. He was the type of man whose quiet menace was far more threatening than any loud rage. “Y/N does all of the work, all you ever need to do is get there with her payment.” His eyes were sharp and narrowed on the man before him giving the mission report, who was trying to make himself as small as possible.

“Sh-she wasn’t there, sir… There was an Avenger.” The foot soldier finally sputtered, hesitantly relaying the details of his failure.

Posture stiffening perceptibly, the first man rose to his feet, circling around the desk towards his subordinate. He slipped a long slender knife from his side and pressed it under the man’s chin, whispering menacingly, inches from his face “How the FUCK did an Avenger find that transfer site?”

The man was trembling now. “I-I don’t know, sir. She she must have…”

“You don’t know.” He hissed in the man’s ear. “If you can’t tell me anything I don’t already know, then what is the point of you?” He breathed, promptly gripping the back of the man’s head by his hair and dipping the cool steel deep into his throat. The man sputtered and dropped to the ground with a sickening thud, still grasping hopelessly at his gaping neck.

A clear soft swoosh rang through the air as the first man wiped the blood off of the blade with a quick harsh motion, before returning it to it’s place and stepping over the corpse below him. Gliding out into the foyer he turned to the agent at the desk outside the door “See that my office is cleaned by tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“And I want an order out on Y/F/N Y/L/N. Bring her in. Now. Alive.”

“Yes, Commander.”

* * *

While you were busy choking down your past and burying any traces of sentimentality, like a good little assassin, you failed to notice that Natasha had immediately turned to Steve, looking up at him with a stern expression, “You sure that’s a good idea, Steve?” She was standing close to him, a breath away. She looked up at him with stern eyes and a raised brow, not wanting the others to overhear. “If you want her to fall in line with the team, putting her in open competition with Barnes isn’t the way to go.” She glanced over her shoulder at you, “Y/N’s not exactly a team player.”

Nat actually looked worried, she glanced back at you, knowing all too well how perceptive you were. It didn’t take much for you to get inside someone’s head, to really fuck with them, and competition only seemed to amplify that skill. You just got so damn mouthy. This seemed needlessly risky.

“I need to see what she’s actually like in a fight,” Steve countered. “It beneficial for all of us. We could use a fresh perspective, someone who thinks about a fight differently than we do.”  
  
“See you in twenty.” Your voice cut through their conversation.   
  
Nat’s eyes fluttered closed with a sigh. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she whispered with a sigh.  
  
She turned with you linking her arm in yours, falling easily into stride. Sharp as ever, she hadn’t missed the way your smile faltered when you were clear of the others and she pulled your arm tight to her side while she guided you to her room.

* * *

Safe in her room, Nat handed you a change of clothes and a lecture on how you should really be trying to get along with your new teammates not torturing them, and yes, Y/N, they were your teammates now, too. You rolled your eyes and reminded her that you were never one for team sports.  
  
Slipping into the snug athletic pants, you were grateful to see a long-sleeved fitted tee. She’d remembered that you would rather hide your secrets. Or maybe she would rather you hid them too.

You rolled your shoulders and were ready to walk out when she grabbed your forearm firmly, holding you back. “What was that back there, Y/N?” All you could do was take in a deep slow breath. You didn’t move, facing away from her mid-stride, you didn’t dare look at her.   
  
You chuckled softly. This posture that you two were in now could easily define your last few years, hell your whole lives. Nat was always holding on to you, trying to keep you from going too far. She had been trying to convince you to join her little team for a while now and true to form, you had continued running. Alone. Not surprisingly, Nat had eventually refused to take no for an answer and here you were.  
  
With the first honest feeling you’d shared since you arrived, you turned your body back to her. Unable to raise your eyes you answered her softly, “I’m not sure. Memories, I guess.” You folded your arms in front of your stomach, gripping your elbows, still refusing to face her. “You know I don’t know how to handle… help.” You finally raised your eyes to hers. “What the hell does he want from me, Nat?” you asked, softly shaking your head.  
  
Her green eyes flashed instantly with understanding, “Barnes.” You rolled your eyes at how unbelievably stupid the situation was. _Why can’t I just say thank you and get on with it like a normal human being?_ But you knew why, if you really thought about it. You weren’t normal and would never trust unsolicited kindness.

“Not everyone is out to get you, Y/N,” she offers, stepping closer to you. You give her a look, because she knows you well enough to know that most people are. “You don’t have to push him away, not everything has to be a fight. You can have a place on this team and protection here,” she continued sternly, gripping both of your shoulders.

For a second you lingered on that word, _protection,_ and wondered how long that could really last while you were here spilling secrets to the world’s most potent vigilantes. There was one Commander of particular concern… “As long as YOU don’t do anything to fuck it up,” she pushed, shaking your shoulders gently but looking at you with those sharp green eyes. You raised your eyes to meet hers, “so don’t fuck it up.”

* * *

You followed Nat into the training room. When you saw the small group gathered around one of the mats you instantly tensed and dropped whatever plan you had formed to play nice after your little chat with Natasha.

It was one thing to hold back for the sake of gratitude towards Bucky, and if you really allowed yourself to indulge, for the sake of an attraction. It was another thing entirely to let a room full of strangers with unknown threat potential witness such an indulgence. That was a risk you weren’t willing to take.   
  
You fell back on your training: _Grace is just a weakness. You will be cold. You will be merciless._ Chewing on your bottom lip, you bit back the knowledge that Bucky would not understand. You would come at him cold and hard, and you would win, and you would be safe behind your wall of ice, but the price would be the warmth of this small bit of kindness he was extending to you.   
  
With quiet resolve you slipped into a confident saunter and approached the mat where Bucky stood a little away from the group, quiet and still. He was wearing a thin fitted t-shirt and loose grey sweats, his metal arm glinting in the harsh lighting. You smirked a little, he looked way too comfortable… and way too good.

His arms were crossed over his thick muscle-hard chest and you couldn’t keep your eyes from taking in how precariously low his sweats were hanging on his hips. _Definitely too comfortable._ When your eyes made it back up to his face a small irritating smile was tugging at his lips. He had caught you observing again.   
  
This time you wouldn’t back down though. You strode right beside him and stopped facing the opposite direction. “I never quite thanked you for everything, and I will.” You said quietly, his head snapped to his left to look at you, completely caught off guard. _Good_ , you thought. “But don’t think I’m going to hold back here just because you helped me.” You turned your head to him with an unmoving gaze, “and you shouldn’t either.” His eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to read your face, but you continued on your path over to where Nat had fallen in beside Rogers.   
  
“New perspective, right?” you asked the Captain, looking straight into those self-righteous blue eyes. He only shifted, eying you with new suspicion. “You want to know what a fresh enemy would do?” He only nodded hesitantly, still unsure where this was going. “Then don’t interfere,” you warned sharply.  
  
If you were going to keep yourself out of confinement here, you needed to be valuable, more valuable than your penchant for chaos. You knew Captain Integrity would never allow you continue to cultivate your unsavory contacts while you stayed here, so eventually your intel would dry up. Your next best asset was the way you could read a situation or opponent and push them into defeat. You needed him to see you in action.

You swung your arms in wide circles stretching as you made your way to the mat, savoring the tight pull of the muscles in your shoulders, still slightly stiff from the previous day. Without a word you and Bucky fell into the familiar predatory dance, circling each other.

You could tell just by his posture that he was holding back. He was waiting, reactionary. The quiet ferocity you had seen in the field the first time you met him was gone now, and there was no trace of the determination that you had seen in footage of the Winter Soldier. You wondered if you could bring that force to the surface…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Steve’s insistence, you have a rather intense first training session with Bucky.

Hand to hand combat was not your forte. You much preferred your long-range weapons, or when those weren’t an option you opted for carefully laid plans that allowed you to silently and swiftly eliminate your targets before they could even recognize the threat. Quiet and dark as a shadow. And yet here you were. Again. Circling around the goddamn Winter Soldier in an open sparing mat. His strength alone could break you in an instant, but he was also fast, and well trained.

As usual in close combat, your best shot was to wait for your opponent to strike first, but Bucky was holding back. You needed to draw him out, so you decided to taunt him. “Stop holding back, this is getting dull,” you called to him, quietly in Russian, circling again. He didn’t respond, but a ripple of tension spread through his shoulders, as you knew it would. You saw his chin jut out slightly in anger at your words and a dark look cloud his bright blue-grey eyes. _God, Russian really gets under your skin._  
  
“What’s the matter? Russian make you nervous?” you prodded with an exaggerated pout, ducking away from his half-hearted right hook “Or is that just me?” you asked with a maddening glint in your eye as you swung your leg in a powerful but predictable arc at his chest, he caught it, of course, and spun your body away from him.

You decided then that quick attacks meant to irritate and hopefully draw him into a mistake would be more useful than attempting an open attack. He was far too strong and experienced for you head-on.

You took a heavy step on your right foot, bringing your right arm around as if to swing for him, he stepped into it, lifting his left forearm to block, but instead of following through you dropped quickly angling to force your left knee into his now exposed torso. He was quick to react, bringing that same left arm down on your raised thigh. His right hand flew forward to the center of your chest, shoving you backwards.

Before he could withdraw, you wrapped both hands around his wrist and slipped under his arm, pulling it with you in a sharp twist behind him. With swift and efficient force, you slammed your foot to the back of his knee and he fell to one knee under the force. He grunted as he leaned forward under the pressure you placed on his arm, his dark hair falling around his face.  
  
His movements were still strictly defensive but you needed him to exert maximum energy if you had any hope of overcoming his incredible strength. So you leaned close to his ear, still clutching his arm behind his back, and chewed on the words you know would elicit a reaction. A strong one. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was safer this way. Closing your eyes you finally whispered, still in Russian, “Or are you just worried I’ll stumble onto some of your little magic words?”

His whole body tensed beneath you, and he paused for only a moment, barely breathing. With an unexpected stab of remorse, you watched him carefully, fingers digging into his wrist, still pinned behind his back, you were poised, ready for the reaction. It was best to push someone who out-matched you, push them into the reaction when you were ready for it, and this was your best shot.

You could practically feel the anger rolling off of him. In a flash his free left arm flew over his shoulder, pivoting on his knee easily. Metal fingers closed around your throat and slammed your body to the mat like you were a ragdoll. You saw Steve jump forward in your periphery. Bucky was hovering over you, jaw clenched, he was trying to hold back his fury, but his eyes were burning into you, and the metal plates rippled from his shoulder down to his fingers tightening around your soft neck.  
  
The cold metal of his wrist was vibrating under your fingers as you gripped him tightly before shoving with all of your force to your left trying to shift the force of his grip laterally off of you. Your eyes went wide with shock and fear when it didn’t work. He was too heavy and too strong. His cybernetic arm remained at your throat, immobile, evidently impervious to technique. _Shit. Critical miscalculation!_ _This always works, why isn’t it working?_  
  
Stifling the panic, you promptly shifted your legs up in front of his chest. Crossing your ankles and slamming them down under his chin, you pushed your hips up off the mat, trying to shift him off of you with the weight of your body. It worked, sort of. There was some relief and you drew in a staggered breath but he didn’t let go. He fell onto his back but pulled you with him, still gripping your throat, holding you above him, light wisps of hair tickling your face. But you hardly noticed because he was watching you and the look in his eyes was too still, too calm.   _Shit! Shit! Shit!_  
  
“Bucky!” You heard Steve calling in a hushed tone off to your left. The cool metal plates shifted beneath your fingers, tighter. You grasped at his fingers desperately but he had your entire torso suspended above him, the weight of your body adding more pressure on your constricted airway. You knew in theory you had better leverage now to force yourself up and away from his grip but the lack of oxygen made your limbs feel so goddamn heavy. There were tears stinging at your eyes and you were tapping softly on the back of his metal hand, a silent plea for him to let you go.   
  
“Buck, that’s enough.” Two heartbeats, three, four… the edges of your vision were getting dark now. His fingers finally relaxed and lifted off of you with a quick flex and his eyes went wide like Bucky had snapped back into his own body. His right arm instantly snaked up your back, gently turning you onto the mat, that formidable metal hand gently guiding your shoulder to the ground. He moved away from you quickly, running a hand anxiously through his long dark hair.   
  
Rolling to your side, you drew in painfully tight, raw breaths, coughing between gasps. All the while you watched him through your pained, burning tears, trying to figure out where you went wrong. Nat was at your side pushing back your hair and whispering harshly in your ear how she’d explicitly told you NOT to fuck with Barnes and what the hell were you thinking. But you were focused on Bucky. Or was he the soldier right now?

* * *

This happened sometimes. Something would push him, tug on just the right strings, and he’d find himself tumbling back into that distant soldier mode. Not quite unreachable, not truly the Winter Soldier, but far enough that he would forget himself, forget all the work he’d done to _be_ himself again. It had been a long while though. He’d spent a lot of time plunging into his memories, actively trying to bring out that part of him so that he could figure out how to disengage it.

It was usually a combination of anger and fear that brought the Soldier to the surface, or rather pushed Bucky under water. If it was potent enough, it was just easier to let go, let something iron and unfeeling take over his body and extinguish whatever had felt threatening.

When he came out of it though, there was always a heavy sense of exhaustion and regret settled deep in his chest, written across his shoulders. Normally he would go a day or two without talking to anyone, even Steve, just trying to process whatever he had been trying to run from when the switch happened.

He’d never actually hurt anyone since he’d come back to the compound, but then there you were, gasping beneath his cruel metal fingers. Your fingers had tapped a soft rhythm on his, begging him to recognize that this wasn’t a mission. When Steve’s voice had finally called him back, he released you as gently as he could and had sprung away, reeling, gaping at his own hands, incredulous.

But now as Steve stood in front of him with a hand on his shoulder, asking if he was okay and what the hell you had said to him to provoke him… The memory of what had just happened was creeping back to him building slowly in steady waves, with each deep slow breath he took. At first there had been regret and that gnawing tired feeling, like always, but now… He remembered and he was just angry. Angry with you.

His jaw was clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek pulsing with each fresh wave. He was furious that you had been able to work him into that state, had known what to say after a mere 20 minutes of conversation all combined. It took you just 5 short sentences to make him snap.

Mostly he was indignant that you would throw away an opportunity to leave your cruel past behind. More still, he was hurt that you would push him like this when he’d only ever helped and defended you.

“Buck! This is what we asked her to do.” Steve was trying to remind him, but Bucky had turned to glare at you over his shoulder, his dark hair falling over his face, making his look all the more grim. “We need to know where you’re still vulnerable.” Steve gripped the top of Bucky’s shoulder trying to settle him. “Where we all are, she’ll do this with everyone.” But Bucky had stopped listening.

* * *

Finally catching your breath, you made your way to your feet, the others had all cleared the room and you eventually succeeded in pushing Nat off, tired of her lectures. Your eyes never left Bucky; his back was to you, but you could see his shoulders were tense and heaving, barely containing the rage. An uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine when he glared at you over his shoulder. It was cold and furious. Steve was speaking to him softly but Bucky was fixing you with a dark furious look.

You’d known your actions would push him away and had expected him to feel guilty maybe, to be angry and brood. But when he turned away from Steve and rounded on you. You jolted back in surprise, but Bucky was astoundingly agile. He gripped your elbow tight, his metal fingers digging into your skin. He whipped your body around to face him with so little effort it left you breathless.   
  
“What the hell was that?” he hissed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve pushed Bucky too far during training and he confronts you about it.

Bucky was gripping your elbow tightly; he had caught you by surprise and whipped you around to face him. He loomed over you dark and intense.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, hardly containing his rage.

You glanced deliberately down at the metal fingers’ bruising force at your elbow and he seemed to realize then how tightly he was holding you. His grip loosened somewhat. Still reeling from the force of your misjudgment, you were unsure how to proceed. You looked up at him, your eyes darting back and forth between his searching for the right answer. _What does he want to hear?_ Your heart was racing in your ears, but you couldn’t tell him that you’d pushed him because you were afraid to let him help you. So you sighed, shifting to look up at him with tired eyes.  
  
“Look. We agreed that while I’m here I’ll bring my field perspective to training and that’s what I did.” You shrugged, as if he should know this already. “If you think I wouldn’t use everything I know about you to knock you off balance, then you’ve been on team goodie-two-shoes for far too long.” He was still holding on to your arm, but it wasn’t a painful grip, and the anger was just a dull simmer in his stormy blue eyes. You were amazed to find that his expression was softening. You’d pushed him – hard – but he was still here, still listening, so you kept talking. 

“Honestly, Bucky, you should let me help you, train on this with you.” You kept going, hoping that if you kept explaining maybe he would hate you a little less. “I knew within 2 words down in that interrogation room how uncomfortable you are with Russian.” He was still gripping you, not moving. You tugged a little to try to free your arm, but he wasn’t letting go. He needed you to keep going, so you did. “Your history isn’t exactly a secret anymore. Your reaction told me what you fear most, and thereby what would work best for me against you.” You lifted your hand softly tapping his metal arm to punctuate your point, confidence and curiosity dancing across your features in equal measure. A soft smile pulling at your lips as you looked up at him.  
  
He was watching you, curious and guarded, clearly unsure how to process this honest appraisal. “But it didn’t work for you.” His eyes darted away from yours for a moment, down to the ground as he drew in a short uneasy breath. “You shouldn’t push me… I almost crushed you.” You finally realized that he must mirror your fears when it came to people seeing what an absolute monster you could be. He was waiting for you to tear him down, waiting for a fight.

You merely shrugged, “But you didn’t. I’m a fast learner, I’ll figure you out next time.” You winked, but it wasn’t antagonistic. Your hand had lingered on his arm, fascinated by the cool smooth metal that had been so unbelievably strong and then instantly gentle with you a few minutes ago. Without thinking you began tracing your fingers across the smooth creases where the plates met. It was oddly calming, your eyes followed your fingers tracing the pattern up to his shoulder.

You finally lifted your eyes timidly to meet his, glancing up at him with a soft smile, but he was looking at you with a furrowed brow, like he was concentrating on something. You tilted your head in question.

“What’s тень?”

You flinched just hearing the word on his lips, reeling at the memories tied to it. Your eyelids fluttered and you bit your lip as you tried to regain your composure. _Oh now you’re okay with Russian_. 

“It’s just a word,” you replied cautiously, barely above a whisper, looking again at your fingers on his shoulder, unwilling to answer truthfully. _I need to get him off of this thread._

“I could remind you of some other words,” you simpered, looking at him through your dark lashes, “Help change how you think of the language.” You grinned up at him, “It would help. Besides, I said I’d thank you.” Your fingertips continued over Bucky’s left arm, and you brought your left hand to his right shoulder, spreading your fingers over his warm skin, enjoying the feeling of his muscles shifting beneath your touch.

“Words like тëплый.“ _Warm_. You peered up at him, looking for a reaction, but he was only watching you, breathing steadily. Your hand slid over his shoulder and up the side of his neck, fingers curling at the base of his scalp and tangling in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

“And сильный” _Strong_. Finally he reacted when your thumb slid over the surface of his jaw, you felt his warm right hand slip around your waist to rest low on your back.

Your eyes fell to his lips and the last word was a silken whisper, “Мягкий.” _Soft_.  
  
With the arm resting on your back he pulled you close against his body, warm from the exertion of your fight. In the same motion he dipped his head capturing your whole body in a kiss. It was soft and timid at first, but your fingers had slipped from his jaw down his neck and landed just above his collarbone where you could feel his thudding pulse telling you that he was holding back. You smiled into the kiss and tugged softly at his bottom lip. His left hand flew to the base of your neck and his grip on your waist tightened at your teasing, pressing you firmly against him. His tongue pressed across your lip and you greeted him eagerly.

Your brain was screaming that this was reckless, unwise. _What in the FUCK am I doing?_ But it felt so damn good. His soft hair between your fingers… _I must be out of my mind._ His lips and teeth and tongue… _This needs to stop now._ Both hands now tangled in your hair, pulling you deeper…  
  
But he was the one to pull away, resting his forehead on yours, breathing heavily.

His left hand was still firmly pressed against the back of your neck, keeping you in place, needing more but holding back. “I’m trying really hard to trust this and believe that you don’t actually enjoy this life…” his right hand slid down your neck, and over your shoulder, still further down, wrapping around your left bicep. He gripped your arm gently, “pushing people’s buttons, being the weapon…” his thumb slid over the inside of your arm where the record of your brutality was engraved into your skin. “What’s the truth, Y/N? Give me something.” He persisted, “What’s тень?”

You could hardly think over the sirens roaring inside your head as that word, your word, ricochet across your brain and practically burned against your skin under his touch. He wasn’t letting this go. Your fear was rising to the surface, he was reading you like a goddamn book. You remembered Natasha’s warning and knew that the truth would be a bad idea. The truth would definitely “fuck it up,” as she’d put it.

You needed to run, but his blue eyes, searching yours, anchored you in place. _You need to get out, evade._ But he was still so close, his soft breath fanning over your lips like a whisper, holding you in the memory of that kiss. _I shouldn’t do this. This is dangerous. He’s dangerous._

Shaking your head slowly, you shifted, squirming slightly in his arms, but he wouldn’t let you go. “You wouldn’t like the answer,” you breathed, looking up at him. He must have seen the flicker of regret in your eyes because his grip loosened as he drew his lips between his teeth, trying to choose his next words. But you didn’t give him the chance to find them. You took advantage of the distraction and slipped through his hands.

Once clear of the door of the gym, you immediately leaned your back against the wall of the long hallway, dropping your head back and closing your eyes in frustration. 

* * *

You jumped at the clear trill of a female voice calling to you seemingly from nowhere, “Ms. Y/L/N, your room is ready. It’ll be the last door on the right in the north corridor.” F.R.I.D.A.Y.. Nat had warned you about the A.I. _Thank god._ You groaned peeling yourself away from the wall and slipping quietly towards your new home. At least for now.

Stepping into the room, it was quiet, and minimal, just as you liked it. It was conspicuously lacking a balcony or exterior exit points, but you couldn’t complain. Honestly, you were more than a little surprised that you were even permitted to stay after your little stunt in the training room. With a deep sigh you fell back onto the large bed with your legs hanging off the edge at the knee.

 _Shit._ You sighed and crossed your arms over your eyes trying to get your nerves under control. Unsuccessfully. You brought one hand down, fingertips brushing over your lips, still tingling. _What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a few weeks of life with the Avengers, you’re starting to feel more comfortable with most of the team, but definitely not all.

The room echoed with the sound of the Commander’s fist pounding the table before him. With an irritated glance the larger man seated at the table turned to the cowering informant. “You can go back to your post now.”

The man disappeared with a nod, as the Commander hissed in a low furious tone, “Why don’t I have that perfidious little mercenary beneath my boot right now?! It’s been weeks!”

The confident man at the table turned to him and replied simply, “Because she’s not a mercenary right now, she’s an informant. She hasn’t been in the field or we’d have her.” He looked at the tall slender man fuming before him and was unimpressed. “Stop wasting my resources and let me plant an agent. We’ll know the second she surfaces.”

“Fine.” He agreed with a huff. “A desk agent, someone you don’t mind losing.”

“Agreed.”

* * *

You waited on the balls of your feet, knees slightly bent, your whole body tense, ready to strike. The small bald man before you nodded and you sprang forward quickly. With both hands you shoved Sam’s back, knocking him off balance, in the same motion you pivoted as he stumbled, bringing your Wii remote up in a smooth motion as your virtual sword slashed through the watermelon.

Twirling back to face Sam with a devious smirk you pointed to the bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, “You lose. Enjoy your drink, Toucan Sam!”

“No way, Princess, you cheated!” He fired back pushing the shot glass closer to you. You snorted out a laugh.

He’d started calling you Princess about the time you’d started begging anyone and everyone to take you anywhere off the grounds, which was about three days after you arrived. “What, this palace isn’t good enough for you, Princess?” He’d demanded harshly, still bitter over your first meeting.

You hadn’t helped matters by dominating him in training every other day. He was just so easy. Such a soldier, so predictable, and he HATED it when you got chirpy, which of course made it all the more fun. Sam’s good nature got the better of him though, and you quickly settled into a more comfortable banter. He was witty and conversation came easy.

“I am _not_ your princess!” you insisted, pouring the drink and holding it out to him, “You should know by now that I play dirty, Wilson.”

“What’s this about playing dirty?” Nat asked with a smug grin as she sauntered into the room. Steve followed her shaking his head with a small smile. Bucky lingered by the entryway, leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Silent. Watching you warily, as he had done for weeks.

You’d been trying to ignore those piercing blue eyes, constantly following you. It took a lot to make you uncomfortable, but the way he watched you, unreadable, un-trusting. Silent. Nat tried to assure you that Bucky was always quiet, and she was right, he was quiet. But he wasn’t just quiet with you, he was silent and dark.

The silence was a mountain, implacable. You couldn’t read him, which was unsettling. Usually you could read anyone, could observe them for mere minutes and see their thoughts and weaknesses play across their faces, body language, and words like a tapestry begging to be unraveled. At first you had seen Bucky this way, but now… now there was a wall of ice between you. Even though you’d built that wall, you were more guarded than ever around him, and he was silent and watchful in return.

Nat grabbed the drink from your fingers, threw it back, and sat down on the table next to the bottle, all in one fluid movement.

“Y/N was just about to take a shot because she was cheating,” Sam answered her, matter-of-factly, settling on the couch, with both arms stretched over the back.

You scoffed, winding up for your next sharp retort, but Nat beat you to it, “Y/N always cheats, you should know that by now, Wilson.” You threw your hands out your sides and tilted your head towards your oldest friend, raising your eyebrows, your body language screaming, _I told you so!_

Nat walked past you towards the bar, grabbing a new bottle before turning back towards you, “And if you’re trying to get Y/N drunk, you’re going about it all wrong.” She poured the clear liquid into three glasses. Sam and Steve exchanged surprised glances as Nat raised a glass to you “If memory serves, she was always a vodka girl.”

You chuckled darkly, eyeing her. _We all were, Nat. Vodka in the eyes to stun an opponent, vodka to clean that wound, vodka to dull the pain._ “За водку,” you toasted, raising your glass slightly before pulling it to your lips as the thick cold liquid slipped easily down your throat. A bitter memory, like a fist around the temporary levity of the previous moment.

“За водку,” Nat repeated with the same cynical chuckle before downing her second shot.  _To vodka._

“Yeah, what she said,” Sam muttered and shot his back, not wanting to be out-done.

Steve picked up the game controllers and, flipping one in the air, caught it facing the opposite direction, and held it out to Bucky who was still lingering at the edge of the room. “Buck? Ready to get your ass kicked?”

* * *

2 hours later and you were decidedly drunk. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been drunk with someone, at least not in an enjoyable sense, not laughing. You couldn’t help wanting to throw your guard back up at this sensation of feeling out of control. Control was your greatest asset, it was what made you so good at your job. It required acute senses, attention to detail and sharp pattern detection.

All skills you had honed over the years, but right now just _thinking_ about the path to your room in this maze of a building felt like a monumental task, like running up a sand dune in ski boots. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you struggled just to appear in control.

“I’m goin to bed,” you muttered as you rolled off the couch, carrying your glass on your path to the kitchen. No one seemed to notice, engrossed in their games and laughter. Except for Bucky. Bucky whose eyes never left you as you peeled yourself from the couch.

He’d been watching you at first trying to decide if you were the villain or the victim, but he soon found he just couldn’t look away when you were in the room. Watching you now laughing and finally a little disarmed, he was sure. He couldn’t help but grin, watching you clumsily try to climb over his legs that were blocking your path. He could tell you were trying not to touch him, but you’d had a LOT of Tony’s expensive vodka so you stumbled, of course, falling backwards onto his lap. He reached for you reflexively, one hand landing firmly on your hip to steady you. Your own hand had landed on his knee, the other on the edge of the couch, gripping tightly so you wouldn’t hit the floor.

When you realized you were safe, a rich laugh rippled through your body. Without thinking you leaned back against Bucky’s chest, to his great surprise, and tilted your head against his shoulder to look up at him. “You’re always trying to save me, aren’t you?” you prodded with a wide grin before pulling yourself off of him.

He just smiled at you without a word. A warm, soft smile that, even inebriated, you recognized was a sharp contrast to the harsh silence you’d faced from him recently.  “Well, no. Thass not quitetrue,” you slurred out, turning away from him, heading down the hall to your room, not fully cognizant of whether or not he was following. He was.

“You WERE trying to save me, but then I was a shadow when we were fighting. And you didnn like that so now you just glare at me all the time with those stupid pretty eyes.” You were vaguely aware that you should shut the hell up, but the alcohol buzzing in your veins had too strong a pull. Sand dunes.

“Wrong way, doll” He said, laughing softly, a hand pressed to the small of your back, guiding you in the opposite direction down the hall. “What do you mean, you were a shadow? Тень?”

“Yes Bucky, you speak Russian, you know what тень means,” you answered, dropping your head to the side and dragging your eyes up to meet his in exaggerated annoyance. “You shouldnn take advantage of a girl when she’s drunk, Bucky, it’s rude. Don’t ask me questions you know I wouldn’t answer sober.”

“What if I let you ask me a question you wouldn’t ask me sober?” He asked with a smug grin, thinking he’d trick you into a playful confession. He was leaning into his outstretched arm, propped against your door beside your head, hovering over you.

“Okay,” you replied quickly, “What do you want from me?” You knew he was trying to trap you with that underhanded proposition, but you weren’t _that_ drunk.

He paused for a moment chewing on his lip, uncertain. His hand dropped from the door and landed gently on your neck, his thumb brushing back and forth over your jaw… “I just want to help you.” …over your lips.

His words didn’t quite answer your question, but his actions did. Your eyes were fixed on his lips, you were as confused as ever. He was magnetic and you just wanted him to kiss you again, and he clearly wanted to. But why the distance and the silence the last few weeks then? And help you? Help you what? His answer only led you to more questions that you were not sober enough to decipher. So you simply asked him, “Why?”

His hand stilled on your neck, thumb resting just below your chin. You couldn’t help leaning into his touch, letting him tip your head up to look into those clear blue eyes. “My turn,” he said with the smallest tilt of his head. “What’s тень?”

You closed your eyes under the weight of that word. _Again. Why is he doing this again?_ Opening your eyes with a slow deep breath, you reached your hand up to his cheek, and pulled him down to you. You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was sad and held more meaning than you had meant it to. You pulled back only slightly and lingered there, a breath away. You shook your head softly, and whispered “I’m sorry, I can’t…” before turning back to your door. Your fingers slid slowly down his cheek, over his neck and lifted off his chest, as you slipped inside your room.

 _I can’t stop being a fucking shadow._ You instantly leaned your back on the door, letting your head fall back against it while you slid down to the floor, curling your knees to your chest. _God damnit._

* * *

 _Again!_ He stood in the hall glued in place, staring at your door in disbelief, his mouth hanging slightly open. _Will I ever get this right?_ God he had been so close. And for a second you were finally, finally unguarded. And then, you had slipped away, again. It was like trying to hold onto a fistful of sand. Every time he started to feel close, like he might be able to keep you, here, connected with him, to close his fingers around the sand, you would somehow slip through his fingers before he even knew it was happening.

“You’ve got a problem, man” Steve teased with a smug grin, walking down the hall towards Bucky and clapping a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from your door further down the hall, encouraging him to get some sleep.

“I know.” Bucky groaned.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha gives you a reality check and the team argues about your place among them.

You woke to the sound of slightly raised voices down the hall, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Rolling over with a groan, all you could think about was the hangover raging through your skull. You pinched your eyes closed trying to shut out the memories from the previous night. _Bucky_.

The volume of the argument increased slightly as Natasha opened the door to enter your room. She handed you some Aspirin and a sports drink and you gratefully gulped them down while she eased onto the bed beside you.

“I didn’t know spiders liked to cuddle,” you teased. She smiled at you, but it was half-hearted, which was alarming.

“Have fun last night?” She quizzed.

“Mhmm” you hummed, taking another sip.

“It _looked_ like you and Barnes were having fun, but he seems moodier than ever this morning, so what did you do?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, falling back to your pillow. “You told me not to fuck this up, so I’m keeping my distance.”

“So you’re fucking it up, then.” She laid down beside you, on her side, head propped on her hand so she could force her hard stare on you.

“What do you want from me, Nat?”

“I want you to stop pushing everyone away!” She was almost yelling at you, it was way too goddamn early for this. “You obviously feel something for him, he can’t keep his eyes off you, why are you running? Why do you always do this?”

“Because it’s dangerous and stupid!” You shout back at her, turning to level with her.

“Oh enough, Y/N,” she scoffed. “There is no one here to threaten you or him, no one is going to die if you let him in a little,” she threw back, matching your tone. She took your hand and continued more softly, “You’re safe here. He’s not trying to trick or hurt you.”

You sighed, but chewed your lip. Her words were meant to help, to give you courage, but they didn’t because that wasn’t the problem. “It’s not about that…” you struggled for the right words. This was hard and uncharacteristically candid for you. “It’s me. I… Nat you know what I am, the things I’ve done…”

“Those are two very different things, Y/N. Who you are and what you’ve done. Or they could be, if you want them to.” She reasoned.

Pulling your hand away from her, you stared at your fingers and mumbled, “I can’t just forget.”

“I know,” she answered earnestly. “But that’s a good thing, Y/N. That’s why I still fight for you even though you’re a vicious piece of work sometimes.” She gave you a harsh knowing look, daring you to challenge the notion. Of course, you couldn’t, she was right. You pushed boundaries to see where people would snap so that nothing and no one could hurt you without your sanction. You’d done it with Sam and Bucky, everyone.

“I don’t know Nat. He just found his own footing again.” You rolled onto your back again, anxious and uncomfortable. “I seriously doubt he wants to join this fucking circus.”

She rolled her eyes and eased onto her back, “If anyone will understand, it’s him.” You watched her for deception, your oldest friend _. She’s annoyingly good at this._ “I’m also getting a little tired of all the sexual tension, so will you just fuck him already?” She was grinning broadly.

“Okay, that’s enough girl talk,” you groaned shoving her smug grinning face out of your bed.

“Well _someone_ should,” she insisted, before you both paused, exchanging confused looks when you heard shouting.  “Apparently Tony’s back,” she guessed, tilting her head toward the door and slipping out. She closed it behind her, a warning that you should stay in your room. She should know you better than that.

* * *

“I want her record” Tony replied coldly quiet but firm, stepping closer to Steve. “If Ross finds out about her this whole thing is over. I want to know who the hell she is, what she’s done, and who for.”

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Well I don’t have that information, and it really doesn’t matter. She’s on our team now.”

“Not good enough.” Tony huffed, shaking his head and stepping back. “Where is she?”

You had slipped close to the conversation but remained in the hall, a silent shadow, observing, when you felt Bucky brush past you.

“What would you have had me do Tony? Let her go?” Steve demanded, trying to shift Tony off of his hunt for you, “Let her sell her skills to the next criminal organization?” Tony scoffed shaking his head, but Steve persisted, getting close, “Or should I have gone straight to Secretary Ross to tell him we’ve been harboring an unidentified threat?”

Tony backed down a little, rolling his eyes, knowing he’d over-played his hand with the Ross card. Steve didn’t stop though, driving his point home, always needing to be the leader, in control, “Or…” in a lighter tone with a pause for emphasis, “we try to use her skills…”

But before he could finish Bucky stepped in. “Use her?” He was fuming, posture stiff, fists clenched in anger. Steve turned to him and his head snapped back in surprise at the intensity of Bucky’s anger.

“She’s not a goddamn weapon, Steve!” He was nearly shouting at his friend. “Is that why you brought her here? If that’s the case, how are we any better than Hydra was using me?” You were just as stunned as Steve. Their conversation had set your blood to boiling, and you were ready to pounce yourself, but this… this was unexpected.

You were reeling. On the one hand you felt strangely pulled to Bucky, seeing him try to protect you. But on the other… you were on edge, ready to strike or run at Steve and Tony’s words. You should have known better than to get comfortable here, anywhere.

And just last night, hadn’t Bucky pushed you too? It was all too close, too raw, and you were a powder keg. The feelings that were growing for Bucky in spite of yourself made you feel out of control, made you want to lash out, push everyone away so that you could retreat and protect yourself.

It downright terrified you the way Bucky could see your fears, so carefully hidden behind layers of ice and venom. “ _She’s not a goddamn weapon.”_ Those words cut through you and the fear of that exposure sent you into a tailspin of reactionary volatility.

* * *

You charged into the room, and stopped in front of Steve, your chest inches from his, looking up at him with hard, cold eyes.

“No one is using me,” you seethed, icy and quiet.  He pulled his head back, shocked at the hostility in your stillness. “You might have had me in a corner, but you listen carefully, Captain, I choose when and what to share,” you hissed, not breaking eye contact, not blinking, “You think tying me to a chair and giving me a hard look with those big soft baby blues is enough to scare me?” You asked, tilting head with a positively wicked smile. “Honey I’ve seen a lot worse than you. So if you think you can manipulate me, you had better come up with a better strategy.”

“Y/N” Nat warned, a quiet plea to back down, to please, please don’t make this worse. Steve was staring at you slack-jawed. You were beyond Nat’s pleading. You needed to regain control and this was the best way you knew how.

Bucky was gazing at you with a mixture of shock and genuine sadness as he watched you crumble, because you were crumbling. You were bringing down the people around you to protect your own shattering foundation, just as Nat had warned you not to do.

You stepped back into the center of the room, physically distancing yourself from the others. “Since everyone’s so goddamn curious…” you began, looking first at Tony, then locking eyes with Bucky as you shrugged your jacket off your shoulders.

The tension dropped out of Bucky’s shoulders and he watched you, regret filling those beautiful blue eyes. But you were committed now.

“Y/N, don’t do this.” Nat begged quietly.

You had the attention of the entire room. Steve and Tony were staring at the pattern inked across the inside of your left arm with confused looks. Natasha had sunk into a nearby chair with her forehead resting on her hand, exasperated. Bucky still held your gaze.

“You wanted to see my record Mr. Stark, well here it is.” Your eyes were still locked on Bucky’s because really, you were talking to him. _You think you want to know so badly, well here it is. Be careful what you wish for, sweetie._


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of the Avengers arguing about how to deal with you and your secrecy you decide to come clean, in your way, putting your arrangement with them at risk.

Bucky was completely incredulous and had rushed into the room without a second thought. He couldn’t believe the words that had come tumbling out of Steve’s mouth. When had his friend, his always-do-the-right-thing, I-hate-bullies best friend, started to think of the people around him as weapons and tools for this war that he was perpetually fighting? Bucky knew his own words were hurtful, but watching Y/N was unbelievable.

When he’d first passed her in the hall she looked small and almost timid watching Steve and Tony thundering away about her, how to handle her, but when she strode up to Steve she was bold and intimidating. Her words were sharp and targeted and had left Steve speechless.

However much Steve needed to hear it, Bucky was more struck by a cruel sadness that weighed heavy as he watched her tear down the security she’d built here brick by brick. He knew he was watching her self-destruct.

He knew exactly what she was doing because he’d done the same once. He’d run from anyone who wanted to help him, pushed them away out of fear. Fear that he truly was the dark thing that had been planted inside of him, and on some level for fear that anyone who came near would either try to manipulate or incarcerate him.

The sand was slipping through his fingers again, but this time he was watching it happen, completely helpless.

* * *

“You wanted to see my record Mr. Stark, well here it is.” Your eyes stayed locked on Bucky. Your haunting gaze was both a challenge and a plea.

Tony just stared at you cautiously, finally lifting his eyes to your face. “This is the only record there is, because I’m just a shadow,” you shrugged your shoulders. “That’s what this means, тень,” you pointed to the word marked into your skin. “My instructors gave this to me after my first successful kill order to remind me that I must be silent, swift, and unnoticed, that in order to maximize the efficacy of those three skills, no other records could exist. _I_ couldn’t exist, officially.”

The room was completely silent. Bucky’s expression hadn’t changed, his eyes still on you. Steve had lost all words, he only gaped at you. He took in a slow deep breaths, eyeing the long row of thin lines. Tony, however, was scrutinizing you with a less forgiving expression.

“Ask me about them.” You pushed further. _Come on. Just do it._ You wanted to ignite the most volatile fuse, begged him to explode so you could deal with the reaction now while you were prepared.

 _I will be cold, I will be merciless._ You reminded yourself, steeling yourself for what was coming…

“How many?” Tony asked with an icy look, motionless.

You tilted your head in frustration and sighed finally tearing your eyes from Bucky to meet Tony’s cold look. “No, that’s not what you want to know. Ask me _about_ _them_ ,” you repeated, emphasizing the words, but he stared at you, perplexed.

From the edge of the room, Bucky answered in a coarse, quiet voice, “You don’t really care how many. You want to know if she remembers. If she cares. If it still haunts her.”

Your eyes fell back to Bucky and your breathing picked up, your eyelids fluttered a few times and you drew in one deep shaking breath. Once again, it was terrifying and captivating how well he knew you, how he could read you like a goddamn book. So you locked your focus on him as you proceeded.

You glanced down at your arm, picking one of the thin lines inked into your skin at random. “This one… number 6. Nat should remember this one too. He was old and had thin white hair. It was an easy mission. I shot him with a long-range rifle through his bathroom window while he was brushing his teeth. It was quiet and he never saw it coming. I don’t remember much else.”

You looked up, Bucky was still watching you but he looked ready to break. His eyes were soft, and his posture angled towards you. He’d drawn his lips between his teeth, concern driving every worried bite.

“12. She was young,” You swallowed hard, you lifted your eyes to Bucky again, focusing on him, pretending his understanding blue eyes were the only ones in the room. “Way too young, brown eyes, thin. She lived in a rough area, probably couldn’t afford much to eat. I was told to follow her from the train and eliminate her before she got home. No idea why; knew better than to ask. She was just a kid.” You paused, pulling in another low shuddering breath. “So was I,” you choked out.

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you felt the hot tears chasing each other down your cheeks when you looked down again at your arm to pick out a new line.

“23…” You chewed on your lip. This was a hard one. You couldn’t lift your eyes this time, not really caring anymore what the others were thinking or preparing to do with you.  “23 was… It was a bit of a fight, but I subdued him… eventually. His girlfriend was screaming the whole time. She just wouldn’t shut up!” Your finger traced the line again, like you were in a trance. “Just screaming… screaming… but he was already dead. She didn’t need to…”

You didn’t even hear him approach, and you were too drained to fight it. You just melted into the warmth when Bucky grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you.  Without a word he enveloped your shaking body, trying to absorb the darkness that was always, always threatening to swallow you whole. This was not how you’d intended for this to unfold.

* * *

Bucky glanced at Steve and Tony. They were transfixed, but not fully understanding. They couldn’t see her, couldn’t see how she was being honest, how if they would look past the hostility and this gruesome past, she was being open, for once. This was what they’d asked of her. _Demanded_ of her.

Giving them what they wanted was obviously costly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Y/N and when she had started to come apart at the seams, tracing the lines of her tattoo, remembering, it felt like he was remembering too. He knew her torment; he knew that feeling so intimately, that it felt like a part of him.

He rushed to her, wrapping her in his arms, hoping that just his presence might pull her _to_ him and away from the memory.

* * *

After a minute you heard Steve’s voice quietly questioning, “How many, Y/N.”

You felt Bucky’s body tense as his head snapped to fire a harsh unbelieving look at his friend. You blinked a few times and pushed away from Bucky a little, _…be merciless_.

“Casualties don’t make the list, they said… only targets.” You raised your eyes to Steve, cold and tired. “Thirty-seven targets.”

“Jesus,” Tony reacted, rubbing his forehead, and you rounded on him, too worn to be careful, knowing you couldn’t stay here anymore. Not now. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to be tactful with this man who had pushed you to this. This man who had pushed your past out of the lines and rituals you’d carefully constructed and into the open, leaving you scattered and volatile.

“You think I’m dangerous,” you stated flatly, stepping away from Bucky and stalking closer to Tony. “Do you really think everything you touch isn’t stained with the blood on your hands, too?” You spat harshly. “You look down on me because I profit from my skills, but if I recall you made this fortune building weapons. And you use that fancy suit to destroy people who think differently than you. That’s all I do, that’s what everybody does, and have done since the dawn of time. Since man first discovered that we could profit from the spoils of war. So tell me, what makes you better than me?”

“Y/N, please.” Natasha was begging, but you couldn’t see why. Clearly, you had ruined everything. It was time to run now.

You glanced between Tony and Steve, “Would you feel better if I started a new ledger for you? A fresh tally of bodies in the name of the Avengers? In a new color maybe? You like red right, Mr. Stark?”

It was rhetorical of course, so you backed out of the room and turned making directly for your room at a brisk pace, all but running. You needed to get out before they decided on the best place to incarcerate you. Really you needed to get out before you completely crumbled. Your hands were trembling and you felt completely raw, like every nerve was pulsing on high alert, and even one accidental glance at the ink on your bicep would be your undoing.

* * *

He could have killed Steve for continuing to push, asking her for a body count. Bucky was livid, he could practically feel Y/N slipping back behind her walls, her whole posture shifted along with her mindset.

When Y/N left the room Natasha pounced on the pair before Bucky even had a chance, she glared harshly at Tony “What the hell is wrong with you?” She hissed, arms crossed over her chest, but leaning toward him like she might attack.

She turned to Steve, “And you!” she shoved him hard in the chest, “You’re better than this. Is this how you see me too? Did you give Barnes this inquisition when you found him?” She asked pointedly. Steve sighed heavily and looked at her as if they were unfair questions, but she persisted, her harsh glare fixed on him, unyielding. They argued more, Nat continued to lecture them, _who did they think they were? Right, because neither of them had ever done anything they regretted. Teams trust each other and this was not trust._

Assured that Nat had Steve and Tony handled, his thoughts went immediately to Y/N. He followed her path down to her room and found her as she was yanking what he assumed was an emergency getaway bag from behind a dresser, she bustled about the room scooping up a few items, before she froze with her back to him.

She must have noticed his presence. He found himself, as usual, unable to pull his gaze away from her, wanting to run to her, but fearing it would drive her away. Again without words, again unsure how to act, knowing he had to do something, to say something…

“Y/N please, don’t go.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a conflict with Steve and Tony about your place among the team in which you revealed more than you’d planned about your past, you’re ready to run but Bucky tries to persuade you to stay.

You stood beside the bed with your back to the door, clutching the getaway bag you’d kept stashed away. It was sparse given your limited access to the compound, given that you were evidently still half a prisoner. You could sense Bucky in the doorway, watching you fade away.

What choice did you have but to run? You had finally been honest, and it had only earned you sharp looks of alarm and disapproval from Steve and Tony, the self-righteous heroes and leaders of this group. Their reaction was your signal; you knew immediately that it wouldn’t be safe for you to stay anymore.

“Y/N please, don’t go,” he pleaded, stepping quietly into the room, coming to a stop just behind you, inches away. His fingers wound around your wrist, silently petitioning you to drop the bag.

“I can’t stay,” you whispered shaking your head, looking down at his grip. You expected him to jump in, to contradict you but he didn’t. He let the silence yawn out between you until you felt compelled to fill it. “I can’t… Teams clearly aren’t my thing.” You turned your head to find a sad, sympathetic smile pulling at his lips. “Or heroes,” you added wryly. “We usually end up trying to kill each other. You know, villain and all.” You quipped, gesturing to yourself.

Bucky’s smile faded at that, his brow furrowed with his apprehension. “You’re not a villain, Y/N.” He murmured lifting a hand to your shoulder, turning your body to face him.

“I hurt everyone around me, Bucky, and I do it without even thinking. I’m a loaded gun.” With a pang of guilt you bit your lip, recalling the cruel way you’d toyed with him during your first training together. “Just like I was designed to be.”

You swallowed hard, just because it was easier to be cold and merciless, didn’t mean it was painless. Biting your lip, you started to pull away from him, ready to run, but his grip on your shoulders held you firmly.

“Listen to me,” he began, bending slightly and ducking his head to catch your eye again. “You are not the things you’ve done.” He paused, forcing you to absorb the weight of what he’d just said. You focused on your breathing, his words reverberating through your brain, allowing room for little else. “You know who I am, what I was, and I think I know you,” he continued, bringing one large palm to your cheek. “People like us… I know how the memories weigh on you, but it wasn’t your fault, Y/N. This,” he pulled your left hand close to him and swept his fingertips over the ink, the record, the carnage, now visible on your upper arm. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t have a choice, just like I didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” You answered in a flat, quiet tone. Emotionless. You looked down at your backpack again. This was too painful to allow yourself to feel. It was an open wound, one you had spent the better part of your life hiding and protecting, attacking anyone who touched it, and just now Bucky was probing dangerously close.

“I don’t believe that.” He answered, his hand drifted to your neck, thumb resting under your chin, lifting it, so you had to face him as he spoke, those clear blue eyes darting back and forth between yours.

You matched his stare evenly, “I did, Bucky. Sometimes the choices were awful. Really, fucking horrible. But I still had to make them.” You tilted your head slightly, pressing into his hand. He just listened. “And I made the selfish choice every time. Every damn time.”

You pulled away from him, unable to understand or accept his compassionate gaze. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you stepped away, defensive. “I could have saved those people,” you finally forced out, trembling, shaking your head, eyes on the floor. “I was unbelievably efficient. They let me… It was just me out there, I was the only one pulling that trigger. I could have let them go. I could have put the gun down and let so many of them live.”

He stepped forward, unwilling to let you slip through his fingers this time. “It’s not your choice if someone’s holding a gun to _your_ head too.” He was trying so hard to wash away the blood on your hands. Or was he trying to clear the blood on his own?

“Yes it is,” you insisted tirelessly. You’d had this argument with yourself countless times and always came to the same unpleasant conclusion. “It’s the worst choice you’ll ever make, but it’s a choice. Whose life is more important? That’s the choice. My life or theirs?” 

He flinched slightly at your words. You knew this seemed ruthless to him, he hadn’t thought this way in some time, safe here with his best friend to shield and reassure him. 

“Y/N, you can’t…” He whispered, trying to pull you closer. “You can’t think like that. It…” He couldn’t find the words, but you were full of them, as usual, but this time as much as they stung him, they opened a dark hollow cavity right through the center of you.

“You think you’re a monster?” you scoffed through the tears that had begun to roll over your cheeks. You’d been unable to stifle the flood that those compassionate eyes had unleashed. “When I learned about you, what happened to you. God I was so jealous.” You confessed, lifting your face to the ceiling and drawing in a quick harsh breath. Bucky pulled back from you slightly, studying you, confusion written across his furrowed brow and narrowed eyes.

You pressed on, “You get to forget. And what you can’t forget you at least know wasn’t you. Even if it was your hands, you get to rationalize it away, compartmentalize it as the monster they made. The monster that is decidedly not you.”

You stepped closer to him now, softly. “Because you’re a good man,” you whispered, daring to allow yourself this bit of intimacy, because what did it matter now? You reached your hand up to his cheek, your fingers gliding gently over his skin. “You are. You tried to help me, even though you knew it was dangerous. You’re kind and you want to see the good in people, even in the monsters.” You smiled sadly and tilted your head. “At the end of the day, Bucky, my record speaks for itself. I _am_ the monster your friend thinks I am.”

Bucky wrapped his fingers over top of yours, still pressed against his cheek. He was quiet for a while, weighing your words. Finally he pulled your hand away, bringing your fingers to his lips he kissed your knuckles softly before settling them in his lap while he pulled you both to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t have to be,” he murmured, finally lifting his eyes back up to meet yours. They were gentle and hopeful. “Stay,” he implored, reaching a hand up to you, fingers curling around the back of your neck, pulling you close until your forehead rested against his.

 _God he smells so inviting_. The warmth of him filled the space around you and your mind was instantly swimming. You just wanted to stay here like this, watching him gaze at you so earnestly that you could almost believe, like he did, that you could be something other than ruthless.

You were completely torn as his fingers tangled in your loose hair, gently massaging the base of your neck. _God_ you wanted to give in to him, to give him exactly what he was searching for, to be the person he wanted to believe you were, to slide your hands over his warm thick shoulders and settle into his arms. You wanted to let him wish away all of the awful things you couldn’t forget and lose yourself, lose your past in the feeling of his breathing under your cheek and the sound of his heartbeat… steady, constant, safe.

But ruthless was safer. And right now you were in a very unsafe position. That much was abundantly clear.

You couldn’t stop the tears now as you started to pull back. His metal hand gripped your forearm tightly though, holding you where you were as he kept your gaze steadily, as stern as the first time you’d met that determined blue stare.

“You can choose now. You don’t have to keep making the same choice, Y/N.” His voice was firm. He wasn’t asking anymore, but you still weren’t certain. Fear _._ You were paralyzed by it. Your mind was screaming to slip behind the fortress of your training, to disengage and disappear, but your heart and body ached to embrace the warmth before you, embrace Bucky, this team, this life.

“I’m afraid,” you breathed. If he hadn’t been so connected with you just now, fighting to be inside your head in this second, he wouldn’t have heard it. This risk felt enormous and grave to you. You were terrified to let yourself become attached like this. You were struggling to understand what it would mean to not have to be a shadow: isolated, silent, and fatal.

He pulled you close to him, strong arms gently enveloping your whole upper body, hands snaking across your back. You felt the roughness of his slightly stubbled chin on your collarbone. “I know,” he whispered against your skin, squeezing you tighter as he said it. “But you don’t need to be.”

He kissed your neck tenderly, one hand gliding farther up your back, pressing you closer to him, closing any space between you. You sighed shakily, slipping your hand around his torso, over the thick muscles of his back. He was pulling down your fortress again.

The closeness of this moment was intoxicating. His nose traced a soft line up your neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” Another kiss. “You won’t scare me away.” You couldn’t hold back the soft cry that surged from your lips. He nuzzled just below your ear. “And I’m not going to hurt you.” You closed your eyes tightly and swallowed hard, wanting so badly to believe him, to let his warmth and understanding overtake your fear. He took your face in both of his hands to look you square in the eyes, “Stay with me.”

Breathless, you studied those damn blue eyes that you knew could see right through you. You could only manage a nod, finally dropping the handle of your get-away backpack. He leaned forward to kiss you, soft but eager, his hands on your face urging you deeper, closer. You felt safe and lost all at once and you wondered if you’d ever get used to this, get used to him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally let yourself connect with Bucky and Steve tries to make amends.

“Another failure?! That’s the third payload we’ve lost this month!” the tall slender man sneered from behind the sleek glass desk. “Bring. Her. In.” He seethed, enunciating each word virulently.

“We’re trying, Commander.” The voice on the other end of the speakerphone replied. “My undercover says…”

“Your undercover is worthless.” He cut in sharply, slamming an open hand down on the table. “I’m done waiting. We can’t afford another loss.”

“The undercover insists Y/N’s a willing informant now, and has given them her own network. It seems most beneficial for them all that she doesn’t leave the grounds.” The man on the phone defended. “If you insist on rushing things, how do you suggest we draw her out?”

“We give them their mission, we design it,” he answered simply. “I have something she will want. I was hoping to keep him, but one casualty is much the same as the next. Silencing a former employee, intent on running her mouth to the Avengers is worth the price.” His voice was eerily calm, as usual, as if he were discussing the cost of stamps. “Set it up in Kiev.”

“Kiev? That facility’s been inactive for years…”

A heavy sigh escaped his tense lips. “I’m aware,” the irritation in his voice was palpable as he brought his hand to his face in a gesture of sheer frustration, invisible but not imperceptible to the man on the phone. “Inactive since a one agent Romanoff tracked Y/N there and compromised the location. If said Avenger thinks it’s active again, she will bring in our lovely target for her knowledge of the facility.”

“I’ll need two days to make the arrangements.”

“Good. I’ll deliver Y/N’s personal incentive to you by end of day tomorrow. Leak all but the incentive to her informants in six hours.” He pressed the key to end the call without another word. Leaning back in his chair, a dark satisfied grin spread across his face, as he spun the long knife in his fingers. He was tired of waiting, and knew he need only be patient a little longer.

* * *

Sitting on the edge of your bed, your face cradled in his hands, Bucky pulled away from you gently. His eyes scanned over your face repeatedly, trying to decipher the emotions you could barely recognize yourself. Having finally decided to embrace whatever this was that Bucky was offering you, you gripped his shirt and pulled yourself against him, burying your face into his chest just below his neck, and allowed your hands to slip over him to encircle his warmth.

He froze for a moment, surprised by the force of your actions, before gently wrapping one arm over your waist and another across your shoulders. His fingers rested lightly in your hair, stroking softly as he leaned back against the headboard, pulling you with him.

You curled your body against him, draping your feet across his legs. It would take time to learn to trust someone other than yourself, but right now, it felt pretty damn good to let go like this, to let Bucky hold and guard you. You were amazed that he still wanted to, after seeing who you were and what you were capable of. You could scarcely live with that reality yourself, and had relegated that part of yourself to ritual and hid behind relentless mercilessness. Anything outside those parameters was simply too painful.

Consequently this… slip, this explosion, had left you feeling raw, exhausted, and incredibly vulnerable. You focused on Bucky’s steady breathing beneath your cheek, and the tenderness with which his fingers tugged at your hair, and soon felt yourself succumbing to the fatigue when you heard Bucky whisper your name. “Hmm?” you answered, fighting to stay awake long enough to hear him.

“You know I won’t let anyone take you or hurt you.” You nodded softly, too spent to realize his fingertips had begun to trace the scarring on your body from missions, from training, from a lifetime of internment. He said the words because he knew that while you might profess fear of self, at the root was an innate fear of everyone around you, a fear built upon the pain of those scars, not unlike his own.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Bucky,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his neck.

“I don’t,” he breathed against the top of your head as his cool metal fingers tightened around yours and you slipped into a restless sleep.

As you sunk into sleep, Bucky continued to study you, he just couldn’t look away. He’d known this would happen that first day, the way you’d slumped in the interrogation room, the way you had coiled when he came to free you, un-trusting and afraid. You were, like he had been, a creature of fear and anger. He’d been drawn to you, determined to connect with you. You had been sharp and venomous then, but now here you were soft and timid, pressing against his body, holding onto him as if he were the only thing anchoring you here.

It occurred to him then that he might actually be, given the way Steve and Tony had just treated you. He fumed at the memory, but quickly settled when he felt your hot breath fan over his neck as you stirred uneasily in your sleep, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. He instinctively gripped you a little tighter.

Over the last few weeks Steve had warned him to be careful, that there was no way to know how much of you was real and how much was strategy. But at every turn you pulled him in even more, he understood your hostility so instinctively that he wanted to guard you from needing it. He saw you crumble under the weight of your guilt and felt it so poignantly that he needed to hold you together. He saw you laughing and playful with Sam and Natasha and saw what you could be. He wanted to give youthe freedom to be that person.

He was downright enthralled and felt an uncompromising need to protect, and now that you’d finally let go and accepted this - whatever this was, this bit of warmth and safety still left to him after everything - he knew he could never let you go. He carefully brought both arms around your shoulders, and savored the way you shifted to mold your body against his. He tilted his head back against the headboard and closed his own eyes, a soft grin playing at his lips.

* * *

A little while later Bucky woke and groggily rubbed his eyes before it dawned on him that you weren’t beside him.  He was surprised to see you at the foot of the bed, legs curled up to your chest, chin, resting on your knees. He leaned forward and the motion caught your attention, you turned your head towards him slightly.

“What’s the matter, doll?” he asked quietly, but you didn’t answer. You drew your lips between your teeth, biting down with apprehension as you turned your face from him again. “Y/N,” he persisted, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m…" you paused, weighing your words, this was so much harder than it should be. Bucky was patient though, moving forward to you, you felt him press against your back as strong arms slid around your waist, his chin on your shoulder.

“You can’t outrun this Y/N,” he whispered. Your eyes snapped shut, one day, surely, you’d get used to how well he could read you. You felt his hand slide from around your waist, across your back, and ghost over your hair, pushing it back over your shoulder. He placed a soft kiss against your neck, and lingered there, so close.

“But what happens now?” you asked shakily tilting you head slightly without thinking, opening up to him, wishing you could lock the door to everything and everyone around you. Lock out your past, and his, whatever uncertainty the future held for you, and just stay in this second.

“I don’t—"

“Mr. Barnes,” the voice cut him off, making you jump, but the A.I. continued, “your presence is requested presently for a mission briefing.”

“Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He answered with a deep sigh, pushing off the bed and reaching for you. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, a delicate attempt to comfort you, before the voice called out again.

“Ms. Y/L/N, your presence is also requested.”

“What?!” Your eyes snapped up to catch Bucky’s, seeking an answer to the very obvious question. “But I… Surely, they’re going to…”

“I don’t know, doll,” he confessed, locking your gaze and running his hands down your shoulders, “but no one’s going to touch you.” He was trying to reassure you, but your eyes were frantic, quickly rifling through every possible scenario, seeking to prepare for the worst possible outcome.

“Hey,” he murmured quietly, drawing your attention back to those searching blue eyes, “I’ve got you. Let’s go see what this is about.” He turned towards the door, his hand gliding down the length of your arm, until he caught your hand.

* * *

You let him pull you behind him, chewing on your lip, trying without success to make sense of this. You came up completely empty, because you’d never been in this position. You’d never lost control like this, snapped like you had, and of course, never stayed long enough to see the consequences of your venom.

Bucky’s posture stiffened a little as you approached the briefing room, he stood a little taller, pulled you a little closer. _He’s being protective_. You thought, and it made you extremely uncomfortable. The idea that you would need protecting, moreover, that someone would think you needed protecting, sent a shockwave of panic and hostility through your brain.

As you approached the door to the glass encased room, you pulled your hand out of his. He looked back at you, brows knitting together in hurt confusion. In the same instant Steve swooped beside you, slipping a hand around your arm above your elbow and tugging you to the side. “Can I talk to you for a minute first?”

Your eyes darted to Steve’s firm grip, then up to his face, trying to read his expression. Bucky stepped closer to you both and took your hand again before squaring with Steve. “Depends on what you have to say,” he snarled.

Shock drew yours and Steve’s gaze to Bucky immediately. _Very protective_. You suddenly felt incredibly small standing between these two imposing men, exchanging looks and a history you could never hope to understand, each gripping you securely.

“It’s fine,” you interjected tersely, pulling your body out of the hands of both men, and stepping towards Steve. Your jaw clenched involuntarily, keenly irritated by the way these two were trying to push and pull you mentally and physically. As you stepped aside with Steve, Bucky watched you with trepidation before glancing at Steve harshly.

“I owe you an apology,” Steve began. Your face must have shown your surprise by the way he looked to his feet in apparent regret. He rested his hands on his hips and took your reaction as a sign to continue. “I asked you to be honest and then I reacted exactly like you thought I would. I’m sorry.” He finally looked back to your face, his head tilted down. Damn it if he isn’t good at that puppy dog look. “Natasha reminded me that we all have a past. I should have trusted that yours is behind you.”

You looked away from him and drew in a slow deep breath. As much as you wanted to attack him again, to really strike, this was a far better outcome than anything you had dared to expect. “I suppose I could make it easier to trust me,” you offered, rubbing the back of your neck and grinning up at him. “I mean, I did try to kill you not that long ago.”

He smiled, a little, but maintained that heavy, earnest look he insisted on carrying.  “Yeah, well I think Buck is the one trying to kill me now,” he quipped glancing suggestively towards Bucky. You smiled slightly, not fully willing to engage in that line of conversation.

“A mission though, Captain?” you questioned, “Are you sure? I don’t think your team…”

He gave you a stern look and put a hand on your shoulder, turning you both towards the briefing, “Your team too, Y/N. You have to think of them as an extension of you. We all have to start sometime.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the team plan for, and embark on your first mission together.

You followed Steve into the briefing and quickly slipped into the seat beside Bucky, who instantly shifted closer. You kept your gaze locked on Steve, trying to ignore the venomous glare Stark was shooting your way from across the table.

Steve began outlining the mission objective: data extraction. You zoned out almost immediately, the rationale for a mission was never of much interest to you, it didn’t matter and only made it harder to live with later. But you shot upright, stiffening in your chair the instant he pulled up the image of the location. You recognized it immediately. Your eyes darted to Natasha, one eyebrow raised in question. She stared back, expressionless for a moment before she finally broke, glancing at her hands then back to Steve.

This was why Steve had apologized, why you were recruited for this mission. This had been YOUR facility once. You knew it inside and out, knew it shouldn’t be active since Nat had compromised your operation there years ago. You’d paid for that loss, dearly. The memories of the abuse and the desire for revenge were swirling into a dizzying haze in your head. It wasn’t until you heard your own name fall from his lips that your attention made it back to Steve’s briefing, and even then, you were unfocused.

“Y/N, you stick with Clint and the jet, you can help guide us through the facility over the coms. Stark, you extract the data files while Natasha covers. Bucky, you keep the path clear to the north, that will be the exit point for all–”

“Wha-? That’s a reckless waste of resources,” you spat before you quite realized that you were speaking aloud. Steve stared at you shocked and more than a little annoyed, judging by the thin line of his lips and the way his eyes were boring into you. You glanced quickly around the room to see every other team member gaping at you. _Evidently mission plans are not routinely questioned here, got it._ But you were committed now. As usual, your mouth was landing you in a precarious position…

“This tech won’t be as advanced as you’re planning for, Captain,” you explained, opting for the more deferential title to buy yourself more time and perhaps some favor. “Nat could extract this herself, easily.” You glanced to her for support and she obliged with a casual shrug and a nod. “You’re wasting Stark’s heavy artillery by keeping him on the ground. If this were my base,” you emphasized the words with a meaningful glance to the Captain, “and I had something here worth protecting, I’d load these bunkers with defenses. Defenses that the tin man here should be able to obliterate much faster than a foot soldier, no offense, Captain.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, still taking you in, saying nothing, seemingly weighing your trustworthiness. Again. Frankly you couldn’t blame him. You would be walking into _your_ former base, would be given your first real crack at running off, and now you were proposing a last minute change of plan.

“Alright, what would you suggest?” he finally asked, still refusing to uncross his arms.

“Let me cover Nat. She can extract whatever you need, it will be in the main data hub where I can also monitor the security footage and help communicate best strategy and routes, like you want. Even better than I could from the jet. Have Stark and Barton cover the air and exterior, you and Bucky clear the exit.” You paused letting him process your strategy.

“It’s a good plan, Steve.” Nat agreed quietly, “You’ve had her running training, but this is where we need Y/N. Strategy. She thinks like they would. You know she’s right, Tony can take out those defenses a lot faster, and this way Barnes isn’t on his own out there. They’re going to flood that exit as soon as they realize…”

“The plan is to get out before they realize,” Steve interjected. He sighed and dropped his hands, leaning forward to rest his upper body on tight fists on the table. “But I take your point. Alright, Y/N. We’ll do this your way. We leave in an hour.”

You leaned back in your seat, relieved that you’d succeeded, the tension finally leaving your shoulders. Glancing to Bucky you finally noticed that he was staring at you, he cocked an eyebrow when he caught your gaze and you smirked. “Are you used to challenging orders like that?” he queried, knowing full well that the kind of orders the two of you were used to receiving were never questioned.

You snorted at the idea and grinned back wickedly. “I haven’t taken orders in a very long time,” you murmured, voice low, leaning forward into the space between you. He responded immediately, shifting towards you, eyes darting to your lips, then dragging back up to your eyes with a smirk of his own.

Nat’s soft cough drew your attention away from Bucky, “Sorry to interrupt,” she teased, “but Y/N, I think we’d better find you some gear.”

* * *

So far everything was running smoothly as you and Natasha made it to the data hub. You quickly eliminated a surprised desk agent, dropping the body to the floor and moved back to the door, looking for any followers and finding none.

“You’re going to have to reign that in an little, Y/N,” Nat warned, lifting an eyebrow and nodding towards the man with a clean bullet hole in his forehead lying on the floor. “Steve’s not a huge fan of unnecessary casualties.”

“Sounds more like we might disagree on what counts as necessary,” you huffed. “It’s subjective.” You gave a flippant shrug but Nat rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the network of computers and servers before her. She quickly pulled the live feed of the security cameras up for you and then set to work fishing for whatever data Steve was so eager to extract.

You quickly dropped the magazine out of your weapon and slammed a fresh one into place. “Boys you’ve got incoming on your tail, take the hall on your left, there’s a barricaded room. Knock out a few windows and you’ll be able to pick them like daisies.” As you finished your directive, you leaned out into the hall and fired at the two approaching hostiles.

“You could try not to sound so excited about it, Y/N,” Steve rebuked over the comm.

“What? I’m helping. Saving the world or however you all justify this.” _Great work Y/N. Just piss off a bunch of superheroes with weapons when they’re your only lifeline right now._

Nat shot you a harsh look over her shoulder, a deep crease between her eyebrows. You shrugged and gestured your half-hearted apology.

“Shit. You boys have a lot more coming, I don’t think you’ll make it to that barricade,” you sighed looking to Nat.

“Go!” she replied, pulling a handgun from her side, “I’ve got this; go.”

“I don’t get why they’re focused there,” you confessed to Nat as you backed out of the room “Will you run a scan for heat signatures?”

“Already working on it.”

* * *

You jogged down the hall towards Steve and Bucky’s location. On your approach you came upon a pair of operatives. You made quick, and quiet work of the first, slipping a wide knife from your side you stalked behind him and sunk the knife into his flesh while covering his mouth with your free hand. You guided him gently to the ground before stepping over him to reach his partner and offer him the same swift death. _Casualties are not targets._ You allowed the remnant from your training to creep across your brain as you stalked further down the hall, slipping easily into your usual icy predatory demeanor.

“Y/N, I’ve got a body on the heat scan,” you heard Nat’s voice in your ear through the comm. “In a room coming up on your right. Working on a visual.”

“Got it,” you breathed, continuing forward cautiously, exchanging your knife for the large rifle you’d slung over your back. You could see Bucky just a few yards away now in the open space ahead. You paused briefly, in awe of his sheer ferocity. Not a single motion was wasted, not a modicum of energy unused, as he slammed a knifed fist into the knee of one assailant and drawing the opposite elbow harshly into the jaw of a second on his way back up to a standing position.

In your admiration you failed to notice your own assailant creeping up behind you until you heard the swoosh of his arm flying at your throat. You managed to dodge enough to push the man’s knife away from vital arteries, allowing his own momentum to carry him in front of your body as you pivoted away from the glistening blade, but you didn’t quite clear it. You groaned as the blade sunk into your left shoulder and continued to drag across your body, scoring flesh and muscle alike until it finally broke free.

As the man stumbled to your side with the momentum of his partially missed blow, you thrust your knee upward into his abdomen. As he doubled over gulping for air, you dropped your right elbow into the back of his head with as much force as you could manage.

When he stumbled to the ground you quickly yanked a small revolver out of your gear and unflinching, squeezed off two quick rounds. You angrily shoved the revolver back into its holster and tore off two strips from the man’s shirt. Wadding one and pressing it to the wound, you used the other to tie it in place to stem the bleeding. It would need medical attention and you’d need a bag of blood within the next hour.

You picked up the rifle you’d dropped while staving off your attacker. Lodging it against your uninjured shoulder you knelt and calmly dropped several of the hostiles in the opening before you that had been charging at Bucky and Steve. You were careful not to waste ammunition. This was a game you liked to play sometimes on heavily guarded assignments: try to beat your best bullet to body count ratio. It dawned on you then that perhaps that was a detail best kept to yourself with this team…

* * *

Bucky heard the gunfire to his left and noticed several of the remaining attackers drop. He glanced towards the sound to see you lean back against the cement wall, dropping the magazine out of your weapon and shoving a fresh one into place. There were only a handful of enemies around them now and he brought one to the ground as his gaze flickered back to you just in time to see you adjust something on your left shoulder. Was that blood coming away on your fingers?

You shouldered the weapon again, and crouching low, cautiously approached the open doorway. Bucky watched with shocked confusion as you immediately stiffened, rising tall and lowering the weapon to your side but not releasing it.

“Y/N, what are you–” he began before Natasha cut him off over the comm.

“Shit. We need to get out of here now. This is a set up. Y/N do NOT go in that room, do you hear me?”

Bucky looked back to you over the shoulder of the man he was currently battling, to find you harshly throwing the rifle to the ground and stepping forward into the room.

“What’s in that room Natasha?” Bucky growled, dispatching of his current opponent before looking to Steve with a concerned glance. Steve nodded and Bucky immediately turned heading for the room you had just disappeared into.

“This is all for her. It's… He's…” Bucky had never heard Natasha stumble like this. “It’s her former… instructor. From when we…” She paused, “I’m working on the deadlock. Look I don’t know who’s behind this but I’m guessing Y/N does. I don’t know what’s coming but we just walked right into it. We have to go. Now.”

“What deadlock?” Bucky asked jogging up to the room to find a thick iron door barring his way. “Shit.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been lured and locked into a room on your own during the mission, and the team deals with the consequences.

When you rounded the corner of the doorway to peer in, you immediately recognized the man before you. He sat in the center of the room, tethered to a chair facing the door, leering at you. Every thought left your brain immediately as you rose up in shock, lowering your weapon. An unintelligible mix of brutal memories, orders, and training directives came upon you in torrents, sending ripples of untempered fury coursing through every muscle.

You vaguely registered the sound of Nat’s voice over the comm when you heard your name. “Y/N do NOT go in that room, do you hear me?” But you didn’t hear her, not really. Everything else around you had faded to a dull rumble as you allowed your rage and need for vengeance to wash over you.

Somewhere you knew this must be a trap but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You kept another sort of list and this man was at the top of it. Deciding your course right then, you shoved the gun to the ground. A bullet would be far too merciful for this man.

Nat had only detected one heat signature in the room, so you stepped forward without hesitation, only to whip around when you heard the deep groan of the heavy iron door slamming shut behind you. You turned back to your old handler with a vicious grin, slinking towards him while withdrawing a knife.

“Aww, was all this just for me?” you asked in mock innocence as you sliced the gag from around his mouth. He winced as a thin trail of blood snaked down his cheek, you hadn’t bothered to avoid slicing at him with the motion.

“You’ve been careless, my shadow,” he spit back in Russian.

You immediately brought your fist down on his thigh, sinking your knife deep into his leg with all of your force, landing on one knee before him. Your grin widened at his pained cry. Looking up at him, you sneered, “ _I’ve_ been careless? _I’m_ not the one bound to a chair, locked in a room with one armed and _very_ vengeful former acquaintance.”

 _“Y/N what the hell is going on in there?”_ Bucky’s voice crackled through the comm. You ignored it.

“It’s careless to think this will end well for you," the man sneered. "I made you a shadow but now you’re selling your skills, letting yourself be known. I’m told that now you’ve joined Romanoff with the Avengers. What a waste. How could you two turn out so poorly?”

You heard Bucky pounding on the door, calling to you.

“Oh,” you pouted, before jolting back up to your feet, spinning the knife in your fingers. “I think we turned out quite well, actually. Let me show you everything I remember.” You stepped behind him and gripped the knife again, sinking it into his shoulder, closing your eyes heavily as you did, embracing the sickening release it gave you. “I remember the first time you explained to me what it meant to be this… shadow. Now let’s see what you remember. My first kill order. Do you even remember her name?”

“Y/N stop! That’s enough!” Steve ordered over the comm watching you on the security footage from beside Natasha. You still heard pounding and a soft crumbling. Bucky must have abandoned the door and moved on to trying to break through the wall.

“There were many,” your instructor answered coldly. You gave the blade a sharp twist before removing it from his body, smirking at the quick pulse of blood that followed. He groaned but continued. “You are a shadow. One cannot be a shadow and an Avenger! It’s not possible.”

You slid the knife back into its holster and abruptly brought your fist slamming into his jaw. He spit the fresh pool of blood and saliva at your feet. “You are either a shadow and will kill me swiftly, or you’re an Avenger and you won’t kill me at all.”

He was grinning up at you through bloodied teeth and you simply snapped. You knew that joining the Avengers on some level was wishful thinking, that your presence would tear this team apart. But at Bucky’s encouragement you had let yourself believe that you could be something in between. Hearing this man’s ultimatum, - that you must be one or the other - you saw yourself how the world would see you, and you instinctively revolted against the notion, against him.

Yanking the comm out of your ear, you swung your leg high and landed a vicious kick to his throat, sending the chair toppling over. Lying on his back now your former tormentor wheezed and clawed for breath, his face reddening as tears escaped the corners of his eyes.

Your rage was insatiable. You didn’t even hear Bucky break through the cement wall and call for you. You didn’t recognize the panic in his voice as he shouted your name when he saw your posture shift and you lunged onto the man on the ground. You didn’t notice the blistering fever with which he began tearing away chunks of cement to make a hole large enough to break through to you.

Your energy was fading as you landed fist after fist against the man’s face. You sat on his chest, driving down on him with all of the force you had. Every fresh memory made you nauseous, or was that the loss of blood? Every kill order, every casualty along the way, every beating for your protests, every minute of isolation drove you to raise another fist. Everything you wished you could forget stemmed from this man.

You felt the exhaustion building and the burn in your arms. You were vaguely aware of a searing pain in your shoulder and a raw pain in your throat… _Am I screaming?_ you wondered as a sob ripped through you and you noticed that your face and neck were soaked. _And crying?_ You jolted in terrified surprise when you felt a firm grip on your arms, pulling you away.

* * *

Bucky stood in front of the door looking for a way in but there was nothing. No handle, no visible lock, no keypad. “How do I open this thing?” he growled.

“You don’t,” Natasha answered calmly, “but I should be able to. Give me 10 minutes… if I can get past this firewall…”

Before she finished Bucky heard the sound of a man’s pained cry both over his comm and from within. “Y/N what the hell is going on in there? Nat get this door open!” Panic started to creep over him, a simmering fear that burned its way across his shoulders and down into his hands as he balled them into tight fists. He’d told her no one would take her or hurt her and yet here he was, not 24 hours later, helplessly pounding against the metal door.

The sound of his metal fist crashing into the door drowned out all else until he realized he wasn’t making progress. “Nat!” he hissed.

“I’m trying! I keep getting thrown out, this code…”

Bucky didn’t hear another word. He pounded a fist into the wall in frustration and as the cement cracked and crumbled beneath his metallic fist realization struck and he began pounding into the wall again and again until his fist broke through. He slammed through a second time, widening the opening enough to see Y/N.

He was utterly relieved to see her still standing, seemingly unassailed. But he was still on high alert and wondered what would be coming, what was the trick? He called her name but she didn’t seem to hear him. His brow knit in confusion, he looked to the man in the chair, bleeding but dragging his eyes over Y/N with a look of defiant recklessness.

He felt a wave feral anger overtake him. He wanted to absolutely destroy anyone who looked at her that way, spoke to her in this way, with statements he knew would torment her long after this man was dead.

A cold panic sifted down his spine when he saw her lunge at the man. She moved faster than he could ever have guessed, and Bucky didn’t wait to see the rest he called her name as he pummeled through more cement. Each piece of rubble he pulled away felt like it weighed more than the last.

He could see her clearly now, atop the man pounding and pounding fist after fist. Each blow shattered Bucky a little more. She was sobbing and screaming. _Screaming_. “I will be cold!” Thud. “I will be merciless!” Thud.

By the time Bucky had made an opening large enough for his substantial body to force its way through, the man had stopped moaning and sputtering. It was only her cries, hoarse and embittered, that reached his ears. That and the dull hollow thud of each blow against soft, dead flesh.

He immediately ran to her, his arms ghosting over her shoulders and down over her arms, almost afraid to touch her, startle her, break her. She didn’t respond at all. It was like she was in some horrible trance. He knew what that was like, when it was easier to shut everything out and embrace the violence than face whatever horrible thing was trying to claw its way out, ripping mind and body in its path.

She paused so briefly to let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She was absolutely breaking his heart. While he knew she needed to get this out, it was at this moment when he noticed the gaping wound on her shoulder, and the makeshift bandage that had slipped down her arm to hook on her elbow. The gash was bleeding heavily and he realized her frightening pallor was equally due to loss of blood as the mental strain of this situation.

He immediately gripped her upper arms and yanked her as gently as he could off of the body she had been pummeling. She seemed startled by the contact but quickly melted into him when she realized it was Bucky. Her screams turned to quiet sobs as she gripped him tightly, fingers digging into his arm. He held her tightly, unsure if she had the strength to support herself, or if he had the strength to let her go.

“Barnes you have incoming in 5 minutes, tops. You two _have_ to get out _now_!” Natasha’s voice cut through the shield of willful detachment he’d thrown around them. He didn’t want to focus on anything that wasn’t Y/N just now.

* * *

He pulled away from you slightly, still firmly holding you in place. You had stopped crying, and a deep, all-consuming exhaustion and numbness crept over you, mind and body alike.

Your catatonic gaze persisted forward, into Bucky’s chest, too spent to lift it as he whispered to you that you needed to leave. When you didn’t respond, you felt two curled fingers press your chin upward to face him. You slowly and unsteadily lifted your eyes to the worried blue of his, searching you for understanding.

“I’ve got you, okay? But we need to go, now. It’s not safe here and you need medical.”

You nodded weakly and he took your hand in his pulling you behind him. He helped you through the opening and stooped to pick up the gun you’d discarded still fully loaded.

“I know you don’t feel that strong right now, Y/N but I need you to be. Just a little longer, ok?” He placed the gun into your hands and motioned for you to follow him.

 _I don’t feel anything,_ you thought but didn’t speak.

You did as instructed, following him closely as he emptied his own weapon into several would-be assailants, making a path for you both back to the jet. When he took to hand to hand, you finally broke out of your haze enough to lift your weapon and fire, dropping his opponent and those approaching.

“There you are,” he huffed with a small, uncertain smile. It fell quickly into a worried grimace when you didn’t move, didn’t smile, only stared at him with nothing but cold, empty eyes. He grabbed your hand again and pulled you behind him as he broke into a jog.

The second your feet hit the floor of the jet the ramp lifted behind you and Clint lifted the team off the ground, making for home. The jet lurched forward just as the sound of a thundering explosion hit your ears.  They had torched the whole building. The nausea returned and you felt so weak as your legs gave way beneath you.

Bucky lifted you off the floor and, hugging you tightly to his side guided you to a seat. He began tugging at the safety harness, but you quickly grabbed them, pulling the straps over your body. Bucky continued to fuss and try to help until you snapped at him, “I’ve got it! Bucky! It’s fine!”

You hadn’t even lifted your eyes to his face, still staring straight ahead, unable to focus on anything but the sickening lack of feeling. So much so that you missed the hurt and uneasy look your reaction elicited from Bucky. You didn’t notice the way he mumbled a string of curses as he rummaged through the medical kit.

Bucky knew your reaction was visceral and was hopeful that you’d come back to him, but he cursed himself for letting this happen. He couldn’t stop all of the what-if scenarios from replaying in his head. What if Steve hadn’t taken your advice on the mission plan and you’d stayed on the jet? What if he’d gone to you the second he saw you freeze in front of that door? What if he’d broken through quicker?

He turned back with hands full of gauze and antiseptic.. He nearly dropped them all when he heard Tony thundering away at or about you. Your blank stare only seemed to fuel his outburst.

“What the hell was that back there, Y/N?! Jesus, we follow YOUR plan and then YOU abandon your post?” He glanced down at your bruised hands, covered in blood, and back up to your blank expression. “Hello!? What is this, do we have a Winter Soldier 2.0 situation here?”

“Tony that’s enough!” Steve cut in. Having seen Bucky work to cope with his past, he mercifully recognized that you were not okay right now, and hopefully weren’t even hearing Tony’s embittered words. “We’ll sort this out in debriefing.”

Tony scoffed angrily, “That bleeding heart of yours is going to get one of us killed some day. When it’s on her hands, I don’t know if I’ll feel much like saying I told you so.”

At that Bucky completely lost it. He shoved the med supplies onto an empty seat and lunged at Tony.

Steve and Clint managed to pull them apart while Nat took the controls. “I said we’ll talk about this later!” Steve shouted firmly, giving Tony a hard glare then turning it onto Bucky. “Go get her cleaned up,” he ordered quietly nodding towards you.

You never lifted your gaze, but Tony’s words sunk into you with a heavy realization. _He was right. I can’t be a shadow and an Avenger._

Bucky dragged his glare away from Tony,  turning his attention back to you, but eyeing Tony periodically. He knelt before you and gently rested his hands on your knees. “Y/N I need to clean that wound, okay?” you gave him the tiniest single nod of your head. “Can you clean your hands up for me, doll?.”

Bucky watched you for a moment as you took the antiseptic-soaked gauze pad he offered with that same cold, distant look and began wiping the gauze over your hands. It came away deeply stained with the evidence of your sanguinity.

He frowned and set a few more drenched pads on your knee before he began work on your shoulder. He cut away the fabric of your jacket and watched you closely as he made the first stinging pass over the wound with the antiseptic. You didn’t flinch, which worried him immensely. He saw you continuing to scrub the same spot on your hand over and over and he knew with a sinking dread that you were in some sort of dissociated shock.

Once he finished cleaning your shoulder and bandaging it as tightly as he could, he brought his hand to cover yours, stilling your raw, burning hands, that had still been scrubbing at the iniquity you could never quite free yourself from.

The warmth of his hand drew your attention to it. The first thought you’d had outside of yourself. The withering look you then turned on him was enough to shatter him. He immediately slid an arm around your shoulders, and threaded another into your hair, pulling you close and pressing your face tight against him. He kissed the top of your head as you brought a hand up to rest on top of his. A small sign that you appreciated the closeness.

Panic overtook him again when, after a few minutes, your hand slid off of his and fell heavily into your lap. Your head dropped down to your shoulder as you slumped in his arms.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pushing your shoulders back into your chair. Your head lolled back and he cupped your face with both hands, thumb sweeping your cheek. “Y/N, wake up! Come on!”

When you didn’t respond he bolted for the med supplies, calling to Nat for your blood type. He quickly grabbed a matching unit, holding it in his teeth as he eased the needle into your skin.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return to the Compound with the team. You and Bucky begin to recover.

“Barton, just land this thing. Please! She needs to get to a hospital!” Bucky was practically begging, standing behind the pilot’s seat, hands digging into the fabric of the chair in desperation.

Clint opened his mouth to answer, but Tony beat him to it. “You know we can’t do that. She’ll wind up behind bars so fast I won’t even have time to tell you ‘I told you so’ because we’ll all go down with her for aiding and abetting whoever the hell she is.”

Bucky bristled, turning his sharp glare on him immediately. He glanced quickly back to Y/N, unconscious in her chair, the blood escaping her wound just barely slower than that entering her veins. Steve strode over to stand behind Bucky and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“He could have phrased it better, but Tony’s right, Buck.” Steve gave a soft pat on Bucky’s shoulder before stepping back to his seat. “She has no papers, no ID, and with a wound like that there are going to be questions. Best case they detain her for illegal entry, more likely their questions lead to bigger inquiries and heavier charges.”

“Steve, she’s bleeding out. Look at her!” He turned his gaze to Y/N, extending his hand in her direction. He realized then that she had started to stir again, waking up. He rushed to her, gently cupping her cheek. “Hey, doll” he breathed, stroking her cheek softly, trying to keep her awake and focusing on anything other than recent events and whatever pain she was feeling. She didn’t answer, just blinked groggily, moving slowly, like every turn of her head took up all of her energy.

“She’ll be okay,” Steve tried to comfort with no small measure of authority, knowing there was no alternative to this situation. “We just have to keep her hydrated, keep pressure on that shoulder and get her a fresh unit of blood every couple of hours until we can get her to our own med bay.”

Bucky nodded but stayed focused on Y/N.

* * *

You drifted in and out of consciousness several times during the long flight back to the compound. Each time you woke you wished you hadn’t. It was painful and you were so damn tired. Every turn of your head, every lift of a finger felt like it drained all of your energy. Just opening your eyes was tiring, but Bucky was always at your side petitioning you to keep them open, stay awake, stay with him.

He’d be holding a fresh bag of blood and would prattle on about absolutely nothing, hoping it would keep you conscious a little longer. He talked about Brooklyn when he was young, asked if you’d ever been. You shook your head weakly while taking a long slow pull from the water bottle he pressed to your lips. You were so goddamn thirsty.

That’s something they don’t tell you about dying by blood loss, it makes you dehydrated beyond belief. You crave hydration but barely have the energy to swallow. _Dying. Am I dying?_ You questioned yourself. _Yes_. The unpleasant answer. You knew some modern medicine and a hell of a lot more blood would probably save you. But right now. This. You were actively dying and it fucking hurt. _Whether or not I live, in this second I am dying_.

Your miserable spiral of thoughts was interrupted when Clint parked the jet deftly in the hangar and everyone around you unstrapped and rose to their feet. Tony burst out of the door first, itching to get away from you and the whole situation. You forced yourself to lift your hands and get to work on the safety harness strapping you to the chair before Bucky could reach for it. You did accept his help twisting your arms out of them, sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth when the motion tugged at the wound on your shoulder. Apparently the shock was wearing off.

Bucky helped pull you up from the seat and made to lift you in his arms but you wouldn’t let him. Nat was still lingering in the jet with you and Bucky. Pushing his hands away gently - with all the strength you could spare, really - you looked up at him. “I need to do this. Please, let me… I can’t…”

“You’re so goddamn stubborn,” Nat huffed, rolling her eyes as she walked past you both, knowing it was pointless to argue with you.

“What? Y/N, you can’t… Let me help you!” Bucky pleaded.

“I just…” Your mind flashed to the angry words Tony had spewed at you, thought of the unknown personnel who would see you in the med bay. You couldn’t, wouldn’t let anyone so hostile or disconnected from you see you looking so diminished and weak. “I don’t know them… I can’t risk…”

Bucky looked at you with worry written all across his face, deep in the crease between his eyes, the thin line of his mouth, the deep sigh of defeat. He gave you a small nod as you made slow progress out. He kept close to you, ready to catch you when, not if, you inevitably lost your strength.

A fresh wave of fear overtook you as you approached the large glass doors, and saw the enormous A emblazoned on the side of the building.There would certainly be consequences for your actions. You knew this. You still felt that your former handler deserved a far worse end than the bludgeoning you dealt him, but you feared the rest of the team would disagree.

You came to a stop in front of the door, head spinning, the fear weighing you down as much as the exhaustion. Bucky stepped to your side and ducked forward to read your expression. You betrayed none and said nothing, but you slipped your cold hand gently into his large warm one, wordlessly communicating your apprehension. He understood immediately and stepped in front of you protectively, leading you by the hand to the med bay.

* * *

Apparently someone had called ahead. Dr. Cho was waiting for you when you arrived. “Y/N, please have a seat.” She gestured towards a cushioned table.

With a glance toward Bucky, you paused, unsure. Your brain felt like it was running in slow motion, you couldn’t process who to trust, so you looked to Bucky. He offered a small smile and nodded so you settled on the table. The doctor removed the bandaging Bucky had wrapped around your wound and frowned slightly, examining the gash.

“You shouldn’t have been exerting yourself with a laceration like this,” she informed. “I don’t think this can be fully repaired surgically.” She pulled the edges of your wound apart, a sharp wince coloring your face. “It doesn’t look like it’s reached any ligaments, but your deltoid is torn beyond the depth of the stab wound. I think a little while in the cradle is the best course to recover full range and strength.”

“The what?” you demanded sliding off of the table and making to follow her before you suddenly felt exceedingly dizzy, the familiar heaviness overtaking your limbs again. Stumbling forward, Bucky jumped up to catch you before you fell too hard. Fighting to keep yourself conscious, you didn’t even bother to push him off when you felt his arm behind your knees as he scooped you up, carrying you to the pod the doctor had called a cradle.

Catching your worried expression as your eyes darted around you when he set you inside the pod, he smiled softly and stroked your forehead. “It’s okay, doll. You’ll be good as new sooner than you think. Won’t hurt at all.” You nodded slowly, the exhaustion settling deep into every muscle. _Wait, when did he start calling me 'doll'?_

You closed your eyes and accepted a numbing sleep again as the lid came over you.

* * *

Your eyes blinked open, still feeling heavy, but not the same unrelenting, whole-body heaviness. Just a quiet ache in the corner of your brain telling you that you needed more sleep. A subtle reminder that your body had been thoroughly punished on this mission.

You looked around to see the last quarter of yet another unit of blood filtering into your veins when it dawned on you, _I should be far more sore than this. My arms, my knuckles should…_ You raised your hands and quickly glanced to your shoulder. Painless. _How can it be painless?_ You quickly pushed the hospital gown down over your shoulder. _Not even a scar._

You shot up, frantically patting your body, whipping your head around until Bucky leapt from the chair beside you and ran his hands down your arms. “Shh! Hey, you’re okay,” he soothed, running his hands over your upper arms in gentle sweeping motions.

“But I…” you stammered, struggling to understand. _Had it been some fantastic dream or psychosis? But then why am I in a hospital gown?_ “I had…” You ran your thumb over the place on your shoulder where the gash should have been.

“Yeah, the cradle works pretty fast, but you needed more blood,” he explained, allowing his hand to ghost up to rest on your shoulder, fingers curling around the side of your neck as his thumb made soft sweeps against your jaw. You leaned into his touch. “You feeling okay, doll?”

“Better,” you nodded gently, smiling a little at hearing the pet name again. “Just tired.”

You shifted, slightly uncomfortable under the intensity and sincerity of his gaze. “You should rest. I’ll be here,” he promised.

You drifted off again but woke when a technician came to remove the IVs and wires that had been monitoring everything about you. Swinging your legs to dangle off the bed, you sat up, hunched forward and began rubbing your forehead, eyes still heavy.

“Let’s get you to your own bed,” Bucky suggested, quietly. This time you didn’t need Bucky’s help to stand and walk toward the door, but he followed close regardless, draping a small thin blanket over your shoulders. Wrapping it tight around you with one hand, you pressed the other firmly into Bucky’s, your fingers curling around his.

He took the lead again, standing tall and broad. He was defensive, protective even. He seemed enormous before you, pulling you gently towards your room. When you settled into your bed, after finally cleaning yourself up, Bucky made to leave, turning as he quietly reminded you he’d be just down the hall.

“Stay,” you whispered voice quiet and a little hoarse as your mind started to settle and the memories of the day began to creep back into your consciousness. You didn’t particularly want to be alone, for once in your life, and Bucky was the only one you wanted to hold on to when the flood came.

* * *

Bucky turned to look at you for a moment, those blue eyes just watching you quietly. Bucky hadn’t expected that. He thought you’d want to be alone. While he knew it would be a tough night for you, he was brimming with warmth and a small bit of pride that somehow, _somehow_ he’d convinced you to stop fighting and trust him.

“Stay with me,” you asked, a little more urgently, repeating his plea from the other night when you’d been the one ready to run. Now you said it to him as if you needed him there in order to breathe. Or was that his own wishful thinking? “Please, Bucky.” It was barely more than a whisper, but it was more than enough for him.

“Of course,” he moved back into the room. The second he was settled in the bed and lifted his arm to you. You molded your body against his, your head cradled in the soft dip between his shoulder and his chest. He loved this feeling, like you were relaxing into his touch, like you fit. You nestled her nose against his shoulder and the sweetness of this small action had him grinning. You were comfortable, safe here with him. He’d make sure of it.

He was nearly asleep, when you called his name softly, “Bucky?”

“Hmm?” he hummed groggily, unwilling to open his eyes.

“Do you think I’m heartless?”

He paused for a long moment, deciding on his words before he looked down at you. Your eyes were still closed, clutching the blanket in your hand, draped over his chest. Reaching across his body he brushed a loose curl back off of your cheek. “No, Y/N. Far from it.”

You nodded gently against him. “The others do, though. Don’t they.” It was a statement not a question.

“‘They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it. You are ashamed of your flood, while others are ashamed of their ebb.’” he quoted quietly in your ear, a soft whisper.

“Thus Spoke Zarathustra?” you asked, with a hint of sarcasm and surprise. He smiled openly at the little crease between your eyebrows and the smirk that pulled at your features.

You were silent for a moment, chewing on your lip. Just as suddenly as your question came, you nodded and dropped back down to nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder and take a slow deep breath pulling every morsel of his warm comforting scent that you could into your lungs. “Thank you, Bucky.”

He pulled you a little tighter against him and you both embraced the heavy sleep that had been gnawing at you for far too long.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mind still reeling from your unexpected encounter in the field, you can’t help thinking about Bucky and how important he’s become to you. *smut alert* If that's not your thing, just jump to the line break and you won't miss much plot-wise.

You’d woken some time ago and had hardly dared to stir. It was a surreal feeling, waking up beside Bucky, his warmth radiating against your skin, his arm draped heavily over your waist, your face shockingly comfortable nestled just below his chin. Daring a heavy sigh, you tucked a stray tangle of hair behind your ear, unable to push out your thoughts over the previous day.

There was much to consider. The weight of a lifetime of memories had been stirred out of the mire by your meeting with your former instructor and tormentor. Those memories spiraled with the knowledge that said meeting was a set-up of alarming magnitude and sacrifice. That meant that you were _very_ wanted by someone very, very dangerous.

The more immediate concern, of course was the as yet unknown consequence of your own brutality. You knew enough to recognize that this was not how the Avengers handled adversaries, that your reaction would not be deemed appropriate nor acceptable, however understandable. That was the plight of the self-righteous, like Captain Rogers and Tony Stark, they could sympathize and condemn all at once, and you were sure that would be their stance on you. All that remained uncertain was the punishment that would come from the condemnation.

All this was more than reason enough for you to run, to get out as fast as you could and disappear, and yet…

And yet, you found yourself here, comforted by Bucky’s warmth and protective weight beside you. And while any of these thoughts could easily, should easily, have occupied your mind, what returned to you again and again was your conversation with Bucky.

 _“…you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it.”_ Those were his words. You knew it was just a quote. Nietzsche. It was so damn cliché, but you just couldn’t get it out of your head. The words forced their way into your thoughts at every turn, and you found yourself hoping that there was truth in them.

“Hey, you okay?” His voice was rough with sleep as he brought his hand from your waist, over your back to pull softly at the ends of your hair. How could you possibly explain that you were fine, that while the weight of the past was colliding with the delicate glass structure of your future, you were okay because he was beside you, clear blue eyes searching you, strong arms enveloping you, something about him anchoring you.

Seeing the struggle in your furrowed brow, your tensely compact body language, he reached his warm right hand to the side of your neck, sweeping his thumb over your jaw, trying to coax the words from you. “Talk to me.”

Drawing a deep, shaky breath, you gave him a half-truth, “Just… thinking about what’s coming. There will be consequences, I know. I… I deserve them. But this is way past the point where I would normally disappear.”

“I told you before, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” His voice was quiet but firm. A promise, a guarantee. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you yesterday,” he was shaking his head, hardly making eye contact as he said it. You were shocked that he could possibly be apologizing to you for what had happened, when _you’d_ been the one to carelessly rush into that room and lose all control. “But I won’t let anything happen to you. Not here.”

“It’s not your job to protect me, Bucky.” Your voice was quiet, resigned. Years of experience had taught you that you were the one best suited for that job. Others who tried never survived long. Though he seemed more than capable, you couldn’t let Bucky take on the weight of your actions.

“No. But I want to. I care about you, I…“ he paused, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. “Don’t run, Y/N. Not from me.”

You raised your uncertain gaze to Bucky’s face, your eyes darting back and forth between his, searching for a reason to doubt him. You knew he meant it, but that didn’t make it any safer or easier. You were trying, but it was just so damn hard to let go, to trust someone else to protect you, to let him love you.

Finding yourself, for once, in a position where words failed you, where every thought seemed insufficient, you resolved to _show_ Bucky that you would choose him instead of running away. You raised your hand to his chest, slowly spreading your fingers over the warm, hard muscle, praying that your actions would speak louder than the words that you couldn’t find.

He let out a soft huff of air at your touch, his breath fanning over your face. He was so damn close. You closed your eyes, and pressed your cheek to his chest, listening to his breathing. With your hand gliding over the ridges of his body, memorizing the pattern beneath your palms and fingertips, you were wordlessly begging him to understand. Pleading with him to see that you weren’t running, weren’t going anywhere, because you had suddenly realized that you _wanted_ to be his to protect. To be his to love. Because you loved him and you needed him to see that.

His right hand, still on the side of your neck, pushed back to cup the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he leaned forward, and pulled you into a needy, probing kiss. His tongue swept across your bottom lip and you sighed in response, tipping your head up to greet him more freely, and that was all the urging he needed.

Bucky’s hand moved from your neck down the side of your body, trailing slowly to your hip. He moved over top of you as he eased your hips back onto the mattress.

You tugged the hem of his shirt up, needing to feel his skin on yours, to be as close to him as you could in every possible way. He took the hint and immediately peeled it over his shoulders. He was back to you in an instant, his large frame heavy on your hips, legs tangled beneath his.

“Bucky…” you breathed, as he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses over your neck. You ran your fingers over the rolling muscle of his arms, up across his shoulders and back.

You sighed softly at the cold touch of his left hand on your stomach when it came to slide under your tank top. Bucky grinned against your skin and playfully nipped at your neck just below your ear. You gasped at the ripple of electric warmth it sent across your body, settling in the pit of your stomach.

He kissed you slowly as he reached his other hand down to your hip, squeezing involuntarily when you raked your nails across his scalp, sending a shiver across his skin that even you felt. He quickly pulled your tank top up and over your head as you lifted slightly off the mattress.

You smiled when he paused for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “Fuck, doll. Look at you.” He began trailing needy wet kisses over your shoulder and collarbone. Your head fell back to the pillow when he traveled down to your breasts, taking one in his hand and the other covered by his warm mouth, caressing and squeezing and nipping until you were rocking your hips up against his.

He continued his desperate kisses across your stomach his hands gripping your waist on either side as if he expected you to slip away at any minute. You tangled your fingers in his hair, aching for some semblance of control.

Typically you preferred to be in control, as with everything, and you liked things rough and efficient. But you were surprised to find yourself crumbling under Bucky’s slow, careful movements. He was taking his time, mapping every inch of your soft, warm skin, every sigh, every moan and you didn’t dare interfere.

He quickly discarded the rest of your clothes and rose to rid himself of his own. You squirmed subconsciously and bit your lip at the sight of him. He smirked at your lingering look “You want something, Y/N?” he teased as he began crawling back to you.

You didn’t bother to answer, instead rising to your knees to meet him with a bold and hasty kiss. Your hands moved from the tangle of dark brown hair over his neck to his thickly muscular shoulders. You pushed him slowly to the bed, and he let you, unable to focus on anything but the feel of your body against his as you settled over his hips, needing to _show_ him that you were his.

You began kissing and ever so softly nipping at his throat while rolling your hips, grinding your already slick core over his waiting erection. He groaned when you began a trail of soft caresses down his chest and over the firm layers of muscle that covered his abdomen.

You slowly snaked your way down his body leaving feather light sweeps with your fingertips that had him huffing out soft sighs in anticipation until you finally made a path with a single finger over his hard length. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, the sight of you working him over through the tendrils of loose hair, your body so warm and soft, pushing him closer to oblivion with every teasing sweep.

“Shit, Y/N, that’s perfect,” he moaned. You smirked at his praise and twisted your wrist to grip his shaft gently, your thumb making teasing circles while you planted a series of soft kisses where your fingers had just been. When you reached the end you drew the flat of your tongue over the soft flesh at the tip of his cock before taking him between your lips.

Your eyes flitted up to Bucky when a sharp gasp escaped his lips, his hands clenched around the sheets. The sight of you wrapped around him like this, glancing up at him through heavy lashes, was too much too fast. He dropped his head back with a heavy contented sigh, drawing in a quick sharp breath when you sank lower and wrapped your fingers around the area your mouth couldn’t reach.

“ _Fuck_! Baby, that feels so good.”  Normally a pet name like that would lead to an abrupt end to your work, but coming from Bucky, somehow it felt safe and intimate. You liked it. He reached down to gently caress your cheek with his knuckles as you worked him over, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled up his length, swirling teasing circles with your tongue as you went.

You placed one hand firmly on his hip, a reminder to relax and let you work. He tangled his fingers in your hair softly stroking your scalp. You moaned around him when you felt his hand make a tight fist in your hair. He was getting close.

You were surprised when he sat up and gently ran his hands over your shoulders, to the back of your upper arms and pulled you off of him. “Not like that, doll.” He rolled you both so that you were on your back beneath him again.

You moaned softly when he ran his painfully hard erection across your soaking folds. “Shit, Y/N. You’re so ready for me,” he murmured with delight. He wasn’t sure what he loved more, the soft, breathy noises you made for him or the way your body responded.

‘'Bucky, please!” you begged, needing so much more, needing him in a way you had never needed anyone. This was more than just fucking, and you wondered if he understood the weight of what you were communicating to him with your body, what you were too proud and defensive to say in words.

He heeded your plea, guiding himself slowly inside you. You gasped at the sudden fullness. “ _Shit_ ,” you shuttered, “Oh… Bucky!”

“You okay, doll?”

You only nodded desperately, lifting your hips slightly, signaling him to move. He took the hint and pulled back as slowly as he’d pressed forward. He eased back in at a gradually increasing pace. You wrapped your hands over his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft skin as he thrust into you.

You lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, drawing him deeper. You moaned beneath him while he released heaving breaths, a thin sheen of sweat glistening off his skin in the morning sunlight.

“Bucky!” you whined in frustration when he pulled out of you and stood at the edge of the bed. He only grinned, and damn, was it a devastatingly appealing sight, his body so tense and heated. You yelped when his hands hooked behind your knees and yanked you to the edge of the bed.

“Relax, I’ve got you,” he murmured, leaning over you and nipping gently just above your collarbone.

You sighed instinctively as he sank back into you and lifted your knees, a silent command which you followed, wrapping your legs around him once more. The new angle was overwhelming as he drove into you harder now with the advantage of having two feet firmly on the ground.

“Shit, Y/N!” he breathed, “You feel fucking perfect.”

Your hands slid down his muscular arms as he pulled up to a full standing position. You missed the contact immediately, but every single thought disappeared when Bucky slipped a hand down to where your bodies joined, and began sweeping over the sensitive nerves of your clit.

“Ooh! Bucky!” you cried. He continued, coaxing you to your climax. Your hand shot to grip his wrist, overwhelmed by the sensation as your body clenched around him, pulsing with the intensity of the moment. Bucky groaned as his pace stuttered, your body doing the work to draw out his own finish.

His head dropped to your shoulder, huffing softly from the exertion. You pulled your fingers through his long hair, trying to steady yourself again.You stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying the warmth of his closeness.

“Bucky?” You breathed, heart pounding, and mind absolutely racing. If he was willing to risk the danger to rescue you and the fallout of staying with you, you could damn well risk this for him.

“Hmm?” He hummed against your skin.

“I love you.”

He was completely still for a moment, leaving your heart racing beneath his comforting weight. Finally, he lifted his face to yours, taking in your now worried expression, the anxious way you were chewing on your lip.

While he returned to settle on the bed beside you, you pulled the sheet around your body. Not usually one for shyness, you suddenly felt incredibly exposed as your words hung in the air.

Bucky reached over to you, sweeping his hand over your neck, “I love you, Y/N.”

The long pause had given way to an inkling of doubt. “Bucky, you don’t have to…” you trailed off looking down at your hands.

“Y/N.” He insistently, pressed his thumb under your chin to lift your face to meet his intense gaze. “I love you. You had me the first day I met you. I broke you out of containment, for fuck’s sake.” His eyes continued to search your face, but you kept staring at your fidgeting hands. “I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. Ask Steve, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.”

A small tentative smile pulled at his lips as a breath of a laugh escaped your lips. “I knew it the day you got drunk with Sam. When I realized what’s underneath all that ice you hide behind. I love that you’re fierce and strong but you don’t have to be those things all the time. Not here and not with me.”

You again were lost for words and instead leaned forward to catch him in a more forceful and desperate kiss. Both of your hands pulling at each other as you edged Bucky onto his back, crawling over him with a series of deep and burning kisses.

Your heart dropped when you heard the high trill of F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice ring through your room. “Sgt. Barnes, Ms. Y/L/N, Captain Rogers insists on your presence in the briefing room in thirty minutes.”

You pulled away with a sigh, resting your forehead against his, his hands buried in your hair, holding you close. “We should go,” he whispered, but his actions belied his words, he still held you firmly.

A soft smile pulled at your lips, “Then you’ll have to let me go.”

“Not on your life.” His arms instantly wrapped around your waist and back, hugging you so tightly to him that you could hardly move.

“Bucky!” You whined, not at all used to this playful side of him. “We should at least…” you squirmed ineffectually in his arms, “shower… and get dressed!”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” he groaned, finally releasing you to roll off the bed and begin plucking clothes out of your drawers.

“Oh yah?” you teased, pausing at the entryway to your bathroom, “you think Tony will go easier on me if I come to my tribunal like this?” Bucky’s jaw clenched as you jutted your hip out, giving him the softest doe-eyes you could muster.

“Put some clothes on,” Bucky grinned, shaking his head. You only laughed as he picked up his hoodie and tossed it at you on his way out of your room.

* * *

“How the hell could she have escaped?!” your former employer hissed into the receiver. “I told you to lock her in and annihilate the entire facility.

“Sir, there was a delay with the explosives. They hacked our video feed, when she tripped the door it took longer than expected to confirm she was on the premises. But sir, you should look at–”

“A delay?! This cost us how many men and a very valuable hostage and you’re telling me there was a _delay_?!” his usual icy and still demeanor slipped as he shouted his frustration, swiping an arm across his desk, sending papers, clock, and pen case flying in disarray.

“Sir, I think you’ll want to see–”

“How the hell did she get out of the room?”

“As I said, sir, I think you’ll want to see the footage for yourself.”

Pulling up the security footage he’d been sent just before this call, the Commander watched as the Winter Soldier ran to the door that had slammed shut behind Y/N. His jaw dropped just slightly as he watched Bucky pounding with all his force, sparks sailing with every hit of his metal arm against the iron door. He leaned back into his chair with a stunned expression, his hands made a sharp steeple in front of his mouth while Bucky burst through the wall. The feed switched to the internal camera, following as Bucky approached you.

He was silent; a cruel smile pulling the corners of his lips up as his clear eyes darkened watching Bucky hold you, and more so how you clung to him. “Change of plans,” he drawled, “Cancel the kill order on Y/N. I want her alive.” His fingers gracefully pressed the keys to rewind the scene as Bucky pulled you away from your handler’s corpse. “I want the Soldier.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You face the consequences of the failed mission, and are forced to share more about your work before you came to the compound.

Stepping out of your scalding shower, your mind was still swimming with thoughts of Bucky. It wasn’t like you to be so wrapped up, chewing absentmindedly on the edge of your nail, kicking your clothes into a heap in the corner instead of neatly folded. You were distracted, careless, even.

When you came out of your bathroom, squeezing the water out of your hair with your towel, you yelped and jumped slightly, your heart pounding when your eyes finally made it to the bed and found Natasha perched on it, legs curled under her. _Shit, I really am distracted. Get it together!_ She eyed you carefully, obviously sharing your thoughts.

“Well I might have guessed what Barnes was grinning about this morning when I saw him sneaking out of here,” she simpered, slinking off of the bed and circling you, her green eyes flashing with amusement. You were definitely in for some serious teasing. “But _you_!”

“Shut up, Natalia,” you groaned, hoping the more formal address would put an end to this, but knowing it wouldn’t.

“I just came to make sure you were okay, but clearly…” She smirked, leaning over to pick up your tank top from the middle of the bedroom floor. “Look at you!” She was relentless. You grabbed the hoodie Bucky had tossed at you earlier and slipped it over your head, yanking it down your body like armor.

“What do you want, Nat?” you mumbled, turning to leave for the debriefing. You’d intended to wait for Bucky, but now you hurried down the hall to escape Natasha’s probing.

She quickly and silently caught up, hooking her arm through yours and muttering to you quietly in Russian. Half warning, half pleading to take it easy, hear them out, try to understand how your little warpath of revenge looked to them.

She turned to stand in front of you, holding your shoulders, her fingers digging into your skin. “Пожалуйста, маленькая тень…” Your eyes flashed to lock onto hers and your jaw clenched instinctively at the clear shift in her tone. Her eyes flicked behind your head, and you followed her gaze to see Bucky approaching. When you turned back to Nat she was a breath away from your ear, whispering, “Try not to self-destruct in there, hmm?”

Frozen in place, you tried to swallow her words. It was a warning. She had clearly grown tired of your selfish and aggressive behavior and was giving you a final warning: get it together and play nice or she would share about the times when she had called you маленькая тень. _Little shadow_.

Nat had turned on her heel to head into the debriefing when you felt a cool metal hand press into yours, fingers passing between your knuckles, cool smooth thumb sweeping comfortingly over your skin. “Ты не тень, Y/N.” _You’re not a shadow._ You looked up at him but he was watching Nat with narrowed eyes.

“You two planning your next sabotage?” Tony snapped, fixing you with an unforgiving and untrusting glare as he sauntered into the room.

You sighed, running your fingers over your forehead in frustration. “Он думает, иначе." _He thinks otherwise_.

* * *

Once everyone settled around the table, Steve swiveled in his chair to face you, lifting his face out of his hands. The deep crease between his eyes and the firm set of his lips told you this wasn’t easy for him either. You glanced quickly to Nat who only arched a single eyebrow quickly, persisting in her threat.

“Ok, let’s start with the easy questions first.” Steve began, his gaze locked on you. “This was clearly a set-up for you, Y/N. Who’s behind it?”

 _Sure, the easy questions_ , you thought bitterly. “I… Well, there aren’t many people I can think of with the resources to be able to take Volkov. And I…” You paused, taking in a slow steady breath, beginning to fidget before Bucky slid his hand over yours, trying to calm and reassure you.

“Volkov. Is that the guy you…?”

“Yes,” you cut Steve off abruptly and without feeling, looking forward at the center of the table.

“Alright, we’ll get to that,” he continued, with an exasperated tone. “But back to who planned all this.”

“Well you obviously know I used to work that location,” you fired, turning your gaze to his stern blue eyes, matching his intensity and daring him to deny having used you.

When he didn’t, couldn’t, you continued, “When I ran that facility, I worked for a man who utilized several organizations to… meet his goals. He calls on a massive network of criminal organizations, all loyal to his financing or his connections. You can’t hide from him.”

This was what scared you about sharing your intel with the Avengers in the first place. There were consequences, risks, and they were all yours. You looked to Steve, hoping he understood, then to Tony. “That’s why I… um, preferred to work freelance. My loyalty was only as deep as his pockets, nothing more. Less liability that way.”

“Who is he?”

You pulled your hand out of Bucky’s and pushed it through your hair, glancing at him with a nervous and apologetic look. You couldn’t bear to be touching him when you unleashed this betrayal. His brow furrowed in confusion as you took a deep breath before continuing. “He… he calls himself the Commander. I don’t know why, obviously ex-military. But he um… he gained a lot of new… employees after you all dumped S.H.I.E.L.D.’s records.”

“HYDRA,” Steve sighed rubbing his forehead with his hand, leaning on his elbow over the table.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Tony bellowed. “You’re telling us you’re with—"

“No!” You insisted. “No. He hired a lot of them, but he wasn’t… it was his own outfit. He’s way too proud to follow orders.” You looked to Bucky, biting your lip. He was watching you, his expression unchanged, confusion still etched into the crease in his brow, the firm set of his jaw, the tight grip he held on the arm of his chair.

You started speaking more rapidly, begging them to understand your choices in the past and how badly you needed their help now. “Look, when I started working with him it was small-time stuff. Gathering compromising intel on wealthy execs, running protection on a few… illegal transactions, that sort of thing. Eventually I ran his weapons manufacturing facility for a while until Nat found me and compromised the location. _That_ location,” you emphasized, pointing to the file on yesterday’s mission. “When he started making acquisitions with HYDRA, I went strictly freelance, back to the low level runs.”

Steve buried his face in both hands. You looked quickly to Bucky but he was staring straight ahead, unreadable. You wanted so badly to reach for him and hold onto him, make him understand, but Steve didn’t give you the chance. Dragging his hands over his face as he raised his stern glare to you again he asked, “Where can we find him?”

“You… What? Y-you don’t. His main station is in the middle of nowhere north of Dresden, but no one gets in there. Like I said, an incredible network of criminals including weapons dealers, military, and… displaced mercenaries and engineers. You can’t just—“

“We’ll be the ones to worry about that.” Steve deadpanned. Your mouth snapped shut, understanding from his tone that there was no room to argue. “You’re off missions indefinitely.”

You gaped at him. “Because of what this man does? I’ve given you _everything_ on him!” Controlling your anger was impossible, you really had given everything, risked everything, and for this? “Or is it because I killed that monster?”

Steve still refused to make eye contact, your gaze swept around the room but no one spoke, no one but Nat even met your stare. “Do you know what that man has done? How many innocent lives you can lay at his doorstep?” you asked. “Every single target on my record is also on his and then some. Half of Nat’s,” you turned extending your arm towards her, “Every girl that came out of the Red Room for _decades_ had orders from that man. Has been manipulated by that man. Has been _shattered_ by that man.”

A steady stream of tears chased their way down your face, despite your pride and anger. Your eyes fixed on Steve now, silently demanding that he look you in the eye and tell you that that man deserved better, knowing he never could. No one could. You gasped out a quiet sob when you felt Bucky’s hand on yours again, his fingers curling around your palm.

You stared at his hand in yours for a moment, half worried that if you looked away it would be gone. You were sure he would throw you off for the details of your former work, but somehow this man kept holding on to you despite everything you were and had done. You still couldn’t drag your eyes away.

“That isn’t how we handle things, Y/N,” Steve sighed. “We don’t decide justice in the field, in the heat of the moment. And I can’t trust that you won’t do it again. That you won’t abandon your team, put us all at risk, so that you can go fulfill some personal vendetta, leaving the rest of us in a trap!” He was shouting by the end, but you didn’t flinch. “And now this?! HYDRA?! How can we possibly trust you, Y/N?”

“Because I’m being honest! Don’t you get it?” You demanded, wiping your tears and leaning forward in anger, slamming an open palm on the table, “The second you brought me here you forced my hand and _guaranteed_ that the Commander would come for me. You can trust me because I have _nothing left_!” Your voice broke with the power of your anger. “I’ve been feeding you everything I have on him since day one, steadily increasing the price on my own head. And when you asked me to walk into his hand, I fucking did it because _you_ convinced me that I’m a part of this team. And you’d have my back”

Apparently your anger had gotten the better of you, as you found yourself standing, hand sweeping over the room, looking at each team member. They were silent.

“But that fast it’s over, huh?” you scoffed. “When you picked me up you had to know that I’d done things…” you trailed off, taking deep, quick breaths, finally regaining your composure. “You should never have brought me here,” you muttered, fixing Nat with a withering look before shoving your chair out from behind you and storming out of the room.

* * *

Bucky sat staring at his hands shaking his head for a moment. Steve noticed the hurt and anger building and made to intercede, “Buck, I’m sorry.”

“You knew,” he answered, not looking up.

“No, Buck, I had no idea she was working with HY—“

“Not that. You knew that was her facility.” He lifted his narrowed eyes to level with his friend, glancing quickly to Nat then back, “You both knew she was risking everything just by being there, and you let her.” He stood quickly, his chair flying back to the wall behind him. “You let her. And then you stand here and berate her for stumbling into the trap there that was specifically meant to traumatize her. And then you punish her for a past you already knew she came with, as if we’re any different.”

His voice was frighteningly low and even, dripping with malice as he backed out of the debriefing room to find you. He paused in the doorway. “Fix this, Steve,” he seethed, pointing at his oldest friend. He turned his intense stare to Natasha before rounding out of the room after Y/N.

* * *

Pacing quickly to your room, you were fully intent on changing into your work-out gear, needing desperately to expel some energy and hopefully some anger with it. You reached for your door handle when Tony’s assistant caught you by the arm. You looked at her, confused at her intrusive touch, as she passed a cell phone to you.

“Mr. Stark’s on the phone for you,” she spat quickly, glancing around.

“Mr. Stark? But I was just—"

“Yeah, I know. But he says he needs to talk to you, like, right now.”

 _She looks nervous_ , you thought. _Why does she look nervous?_  You eyed her suspiciously but took the phone, she was always a little odd, a little nosy. You figured that was just Tony’s way of keeping tabs on you without incurring Bucky’s wrath. But she looked particularly fidgety just now and it was truly odd that she bolted the second the phone left her fingers.

You pressed it to your ear, “What Tony? I just—“

“First name basis, huh? That’s surprising.” Your blood ran cold and your posture stiffened immediately when you heard the smooth, controlled tenor of the voice on the other end. Definitely not Tony Stark. “Hello, Y/N.”

“Commander,” you deadpanned, searching for breath.

“You seem to have made some new friends, Y/N.” The voice cut through you like ice but you quickly recovered yourself, shifting into defensive awareness. _Where the fuck has that shifty assistant gone?_ Your fingers slipped over the hilt of the small blade at your hip as you peered around a corner, still listening to the phone. No sign of her. “I’m sure you realize that you’re also making many enemies in the process.”

“Well, shit happens,” you cautiously turned back for your room, eyes scanning the hall for the assistant or any other potential threats before you slipped inside. The space that once felt safe and comfortable suddenly felt hostile and dangerous.

“I still owe you payment for your last protection detail, any chance you’ll come in to collect it?”

Your wry laugh was no less than your former employer expected, “I’ll tell you what, you keep it and we’ll call it even for what I did to your sweet hostage in Kiev.”

His scolding 'tsks' were sharp in your ear. “Oh I think we’re past that, Y/N. The balance of your ledger has tipped. You owe me now, sweetheart.” The nickname was sickly sweet, his voice calm, easy. It was unnerving. He was always relaxed and calculated but now his confidence felt too comfortable.

“Mmm see that’s the thing about being freelance, I don’t owe anyone anything. Ever.”

“Oh but you do. You’ve compromised _several_ of my operations and informants in addition to killing that very expensive hostage. You’ve cost me a great deal in failed operations financially, in supplies, and in contracts.” You chewed on your lips, listening as his tone sharpened, “So you can pay with your life or you can return and work off your debt.”

“I think I’m pretty comfortable here, thanks,” you fired back without thinking. Thankfully, you sounded more confident than you felt, given the sour debriefing you’d just abandoned.

“Yes, you are, aren’t you?” You spun, looking for cameras, audio equipment. “I saw you made a new friend. An asset. A powerful one who seems _determined_ to look after you.” Your search stopped. He didn’t mean he saw you now, he saw you in Kiev. An asset. He meant Bucky.

Your body froze, every muscle locked in fear, anger, helpless frustration. He’d outplayed you and you were uncertain how to proceed, and the roar of the blood rushing in your ears certainly didn’t help you focus. “Bring him with you and we’ll call it even. In fact I’ll even give you a bonus. A file you’ll be interested in.”

It was almost impossible to get a hold of your racing thoughts. _He wants Bucky. No, he wants the Winter Soldier. I’m a pawn now, this is bad. I have no power in this game anymore. A file? Why the hell should I care about a file? One of Bucky’s? Don’t give him anything on Bucky._

“I’m a freelance mercenary. You know files of any kind are of no interest to me.”

“Not even your own?”

Again, you were dumbstruck. _There is no file. Don’t be stupid, Y/N, there is no file. You were a shadow._ “I don’t have one.”

“Oh everyone does,” he practically purred in your ear, your hand shaking around the phone, “Especially hostages.” He paused to let the weight sink in but it didn’t. You were too numb, too confused. “Didn’t you ever wonder why you were kept in the dark? So isolated? Unlike the others? Unlike your pal the Black Widow?”

Your mind went completely blank, you barely had enough control to hold onto the phone. He must have heard your heavy breathing, because he didn’t wait much longer for a reply. “You know where to go, Y/N. Bring him in.”

* * *

“You’re bargaining with her?” the broad man asked, leaning forward in his chair opposite the Commander. “Do you think that’s wise?”

The Commander only smirked, a crooked and devious thing, menacing with deep creases in his taut and thin skin. “She will come to us.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

“She will come for this.” He reached over his desk to flip closed an old and tattered manila folder with red Cyrillic lettering printed on its cover. “These new acquisitions from S.H.I.E.L.D. have been most advantageous.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make a decision, refuse to follow anyone’s rules, and learn whether it’s a gamble that will pay off.

Standing at the register, you wiped the sleep from your eyes. This was simple and habitual for you: exit the plane, purchase a new hoodie and hat at the gift shop, catch the train to Dresden in 10. Clockwork. It was all so natural, such a habit that you didn’t think twice about sleeping most of the flight.

You stopped short, though, when your eye caught on the books near the register. Thus Spoke Zarathustra.

Without another thought, you dropped it onto the pile of items for purchase and tucked it under your arm before ducking into a bathroom to disappear. You couldn’t be followed through Berlin, not to Dresden, not north of Dresden, not to the Commander’s hold.

After changing into the sweater and pinning your hair beneath the hat, you stood with the book in your hands, looking the role of the tourist. Staring at the cover for what felt like ages, you finally made the decision, quickly seeking through the pages and tearing one out. Just one.

* * *

The wind snapped at your coat, pulling the hem taught as you stood in front of the post box, gripping tightly to the envelope you’d prepared just a few hours ago. The envelope you’d agonized over, the envelope you weren’t sure you should send.

The city hummed around you, people brushed past, pieces of your hair whipped across your face, tugged loose by the wind. But you remained perfectly still, clutching the envelope you’d prepared on the train, the envelope you’d turned over in your hands again and again on your way here, to Dresden, your last stop. Finally, here you stood, immobile with indecision.

If you tucked the envelope in your pocket, shredded it, discarded it in the nearest trash bin, Bucky would be safe, and you’d face your fate alone, like you should. He would assume you’d left after the debriefing, unwilling to work through the complex team dynamics in the wake of your failed mission in Kiev.

He would assume he wasn’t enough to keep you in New York… to keep you with him. That was an unbearably painful thought when he meant so much, was worth so much, was more than enough. It was that very thought that had led you here. Just a few miles from the greatest risk you’d ever take, holding an envelope that could undo everything you were taking that risk for. But you just couldn’t let go of it.

It would be so selfish to send it, because if he knew why you left, there was a chance he’d come for you, and then this would all be for naught. Your peace of mind or his life; that’s what was in the balance here, but somehow the difficulty of that decision weighed heavier even than the decision to come here in the first place.

He deserved an explanation, but any you offered only put him at risk.

* * *

 _It’s harder now to turn it off. Why is it harder?_ you thought. The back of your hand swept over your cheek, taking tears and grime away with it. _I’m a trained and hardened assassin. Did it all really come undone in just a few months with them?_

Your hand returned to the heel of the gun, steadying your grip.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to the anonymous form bound and kneeling before you. “They’ll kill you either way.”

“Does that make you feel better about being the one to do it?”

 _Remember Bucky. You’re doing this for him._ A sharp roll of your head and a readjustment of your aim were followed by a deep, shaking breath and the loud snap of the gun firing in your hands. _Bucky deserves his freedom more than anyone, far more than me._

“It doesn’t,” you whispered back to the corpse, lowering the firearm to the table beside you and raising your hands beside your head, as was the necessary routine.

The guards swarmed to either side of you, jerking your arms down and back. Your stiff joints screamed at the hash kick to the back of your knees as you fell to the ground. The skin deeply bruised, blue and purple and yellow, never permitted to fully heal before the next harsh blow. You stared down at the palette of discolored flesh, at the deep red liquid from the man a few feet away, seeping beneath you through the pattern of the tile floor, easily recognizing it as the narrative of your life.

Silence was your only defense now as your body was once again jerked upward by strong, merciless hands.

* * *

When you’d first arrived at the stronghold you weren’t at all surprised to be immediately apprehended, dropped to your knees, patted down for weapons, and restrained. It was standard precaution. You had just spent the last few months betraying this man and his work, selling his secrets, killing his men.

You still weren’t fazed when you were made to wait in a holding cell. It wasn’t until the Commander came to you there in the cell, instead of negotiating with you in his office or a conference room, that the weight of the situation sank in: worst case scenario.

The second the door groaned shut behind him, the tension in the room grew like a heavy shadow. You shifted to lift your chin, defiant and proud, watching him closely for leverage, an opportunity. There wasn’t much point in eyeing him for weapons, you knew he was armed, but he made a show of sliding the long slender knife onto the table in front of you. It screeched across the steel surface.

You remained silent as always; waiting him out. Both of you knew that an interrogation was a careful dance, and whoever took the first step, took the lead, gave away the most information.

“You’ve come alone.”

“You said _I_ owe you, so _I’m_ here,” you fired back, voice strong and defiant.

“Those weren’t the terms!” His fist slammed onto the table making the knife jump, but you remained even, unmoved.

“The terms have changed,” you answered coolly, leaning forward as much as the restraints would allow. You knew you needed to present with absolute confidence. Anything less would be met with a swift power-play and this would be over in moments. It was clear that this was going to hurt… but you might still get what you wanted.

“You can’t get him without me, and I won’t give him to you. So you can accept my offer of a contract with _me_ …” He scoffed at your proposal before you even finished the sentence, “…or have done, and kill me already.”

“Does your soldier like those pretty big eyes of yours?”

That threw you. You managed to keep silent, not spilling your confusion with words, but it was clear in the way your head jerked back, how your eyes narrowed for a split second.

He rounded the table, gripping your face roughly in his hand, his thumb and forefinger digging into the hollows of your cheeks. “Those big pretty eyes that only see what they want to see? Hmm?”

You tore your face away as he reached for the knife. He hummed softly, tapping the tip of the blade gently on your cheekbone. “You want to believe you’re stronger, that you hold all the cards, but you’re weak and inoperative.”

You bit your lip, trying to withhold the eruption of pain as he dipped the blade into your skin. “You’re useless to me on your own, Y/N. You’re not the shadow you were. You’re protecting him.” You forced yourself to focus on the warm tickle of the blood dripping down your neck instead of the slow stroke he was making across your cheek as he spoke. “And when you have priorities of your own, I can’t trust you to focus on mine and carry out a mission.”

He pulled the blade away and sat on the table in front of you, watching the thick trickle of blood on its stream over your cheek and neck. “When the asset comes – and he will come for you – I’ll activate him.” He tapped your shoulder with the point of the blade. 

“See, you’ll remember him, how he protected you, came to save you, how you made this sacrifice for him. But he won’t remember you at all. He’ll have a directive to keep you in line. And you won’t have the heart to do what it takes to get out… to hurt him.” He ran his thumb over the edge of the blade, testing its edge. “You’ll stay for him and together you’ll be the most effective team of operatives we’ve ever had.” His gaze snapped to you again, locking on you with hard narrowed eyes, “Without him you’re just… collateral.”

“You’re wrong.” You were seething now, reeling. How had you miscalculated so badly? Surely you were more valuable as an agent than a pawn for ransom… But Bucky was their asset. “He won’t come. The others… they won’t let him. Not for me.”

His laugh was sharp in your ears, “If that video from Kiev is any indication, nothing will stop him from running into my hands the moment he sees your sweet face, bleeding and bruised.”

Before you could think to anticipate the pain, the knife flashed in his hand and sank deep into your side. The cry that ripped out of your throat was almost inhuman. Your jaw dropped in shock and pain, gasping for breath as he pulled the blade expertly from between your ribs, coated to the hilt in bright red stain.

“But I suppose you might as well earn your keep while you’re here.”

Dropping your head back, you could hardly focus on his words, concentrating on just breathing. Your gulping, gasping, insufficient breathing. The pain radiated through your chest and shoulder with every breath as your lung threatened to collapse.

He stood, wiping his knife clean before looking to you again. “I’ve done some research, you know, for how to instruct your new handler when he finally gets here and we…. reprogram him. But maybe we can get some of that shadow back in you before he gets here hmm?”

You didn’t speak, couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. “I had one of your old handlers before you killed him. I’m told blind executions are effective in quelling your more sentimental outbursts. Shall we start there?”

“Go to hell,” You spat at him, a pool of blood landing at his feet. _Definitely a punctured lung, then._

That did it. He was nothing if not clean and efficient. He pressed the tip of the knife to the juncture of your throat and clavicle. You stared at him, hard and unmoving, clenching your jaw, daring him to sink the point in, to end this now, to free you and hopefully, ultimately, Bucky.

“Y/N, you’re smarter than this,” he sighed, “I will kill you. Slowly.” He wasn’t bluffing, he never did. “For every execution you refuse to carry out, I will gouge you with another gaping wound until you drown in your own blood. I will send your body to your Winter Soldier and he will come to me anyway, and it will be so easy to take him, when he’s blind and reckless with rage.”

The shudder that rippled through your body was insurmountable, your ragged wheezing did nothing for your negotiating stance. “And I promise you, every last one of the people you refused to execute, will have died anyway.”

With a sinking, agonizing dread, you realized he was right. You’d fucked this up in the worst possible way and now your best chance at keeping Bucky away from here, at saving him from this, from everything he had already escaped once in his lifetime was to do this. To do this and pray to whatever monstrous gods were out there that he never received that damn envelope and that he never came for you.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky deals with your absence and a rescue attempt is made.

Rough hands had shoved you back to your holding cell some time ago. You had stopped measuring the time early on. There was no point since you had no intention of getting out; escape would only undo what you’d come here for. Now you lay huddled on the bed, knees curled to your chest, lying on your side, softly tracing the fresh markings burning on the inside of your arm, the latest additions to your record.

Your eyes fluttered closed trying to commit to memory what little detail you could about the targets. _Thirty-eight, male, short, dark hair. I will be cold. Thirty-nine, aged, small, begged. I will be merciless…_

It didn’t work anymore. Nothing worked. Not your rituals, not your training, there was nothing that could quiet the echoes of the faces… sometimes screaming, sometimes silent and stoic, sometimes pleading, begging…

You weren’t the same hardened assassin you once were. Something had changed, _you_ had changed. It became impossible to forget your team, Bucky. The relief of being more than just a weapon pressed on your mind and the warmth of every memory of Bucky was a waking nightmare, trapping you here, in this space where you felt like more than a silent and deadly shadow but needed to be cold and merciless to survive.

Now… as prisoner and executioner you had never felt so diminished… so _heartless_. A brutally blunt instrument. Now, every new order, every kill, every new line on the record decorating your skin carried a fresh depth to the hollow pain gnawing at your every waking thought and your every restless dream.

You had come here, had done this, in an attempt to make the selfless choice, for once. Like Bucky had said, you could make the choice now. This was the result of your choice. You _chose_ to be the villain so that Bucky wouldn’t have to be. Now, here, actually being the villain… it was killing you. Killing the life you could have had and it was unendurable. You had to find a way to block it out or it would destroy you, so you focused on the hollow feeling growing deep in your chest. You let it consume you.

Taking a slow deep breath, you thought of one muscle at a time, relaxing each slowly, working down and out, letting the numbness creep through your mind. _Quiet_. Slow breath in. _Cold_. Breathe out. _Merciless_. Numb. You traced the rough healing scar of the first line from 2 weeks ago. Was it 2 weeks? It was hard to tell how long you’d been here anymore.

Normally, your training kicked in and you kept careful count of the days. You ate, exercised however you could, looked for tools and solutions. But this time… this time you weren’t planning to get out. This was your penance. It was the price for Bucky’s freedom and you’d pay it for all he’d done for you, believed in and hoped for you. He was hope and you were chaos. This was how it had to be.

Lost in your insistent quiet detachment, you bolted upright at the rumbling eruption that shook the walls. It took a moment to register the sound and jump to your feet when the lights flickered out around you. Tearing a coil from beneath the mattress, you slid behind the door, holding it aloft as the heavy iron door scraped slowly across its track, the deadlock apparently blown by the power outage.

You heard a man’s grunting with the effort and felt your pulse quicken. You’d made no plans to escape, but if opportunity came knocking, or rather, barging in…

Swinging the spring fast and with all the strength you could manage, your whole body followed the motion, pouring all of your force into the sharp metal spring in your hand. Shock reverberated through every cell in your body when your attack was met with a strong metal hand coiling around your wrist.

* * *

**_Weeks earlier…_ **

“We have to find her!” Bucky bellowed, slamming his fist on the table. “She’s part of this team.”

“Uh, was,” Tony cut in, “I think you have the wrong tense there, Barnes. She left. Now she’s a fugitive. Again.”

Bucky looked to Natasha, begging her to jump in, but she remained quiet, leaning against a steel pillar with crossed arms. She met Bucky’s gaze but her expression was unreadable.

“No, this isn’t right…” Bucky refused to believe she would just vanish. Maybe once, admittedly not that long ago, but not anymore, not now. She would have said, she would have waited. “She wouldn’t just… go.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward, resting his hands on the table, “Buck, I know you care about her. I get that you feel like you knew her but this is her M.O.” Bucky groaned and turned away.

“I do know her, Steve,” he answered quiet, even, but frustrated. “She’s me. She was me after I pulled you from the Potomac. You remember when you found me, Steve. There’s no way she would willingly go back to being a mercenary. Not for anyone.”

“Buck, you disappeared for two years after D.C.!”

“And how did that end?” Bucky thundered, “Because I recall it nearly got us killed and half of you were imprisoned in a floating hell!”

“It would be too dangerous for her to even try to run after all the intel she’s given us,” Sam agreed quietly, from his spot at the table, arms folded sternly over his chest, “She made a lot of enemies by helping us.”

“She gave up well networked criminals one of them with HYDRA connections. We can’t just let her go alone.” Bucky insisted, grateful for Sam’s support. “They won’t just be trying to bring her in. Steve, they’ll kill her.”

Steve sighed, “We don’t know where she is…”

“So look!” Bucky shouted, “You won’t even look!”

“She doesn’t want to be found, Barnes,” Natasha’s voice finally hummed into the fray, cool and even. “You’d know it if she did. No one took her from the compound, the footage shows her leaving on her own with a backpack. We both know she’s had that bag packed since she came here.”

“That doesn’t mean we just let her disappear.” He’d calmed, but still ran a worried hand through his hair.

“If she wanted you to know where she was you’d know.”

“Do _you_ know?” He demanded sharply.

“Careful soldier,” she warned, turning to walk out of the room.

Steve made to follow her out, pausing to place a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

* * *

For the first several days Bucky sifted through every artifact you’d left in your room, looking for any hint at where you’d gone, why you’d gone. He refused to believe you’d leave because of the results of the mission in Kiev, you were stronger than that. But Natasha’s words hung on his mind, “If she wanted you to know where she was you’d know.”

He began to realize with a sinking dread that none of the things in this room were really yours. You’d been brought as a hostage, these were things the team had given to you and you’d taken them gladly, but was there anything here that was really you? That gave any hint at where you might go if you wanted to hide?

By the second week he’d stopped coming into your room at all, and spent more and more time training. A combination of anxious energy and idle frustration burning through him every moment that he wasn’t on a mission, which meant he spent nearly all of his time training. Steve wouldn’t let him on most calls, he was too distracted, too reckless.

Leaning over his cereal one morning, Sam slid an envelope across the counter to him. Sam didn’t speak for a moment, but raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly, waiting for Bucky to open it. “It’s from Germany,” he prodded as Bucky sat staring at the handwriting printed on the front. “Might be what you’re looking for. You should open it.”

Without a word Bucky nodded once, lifted the envelope and swiftly tore it open. The muscle in his jaw clenched as he looked over the page tucked inside. One page torn out from a book, two sentences underlined in shaky black ink. “They call you heartless; but you have a heart and I love you for being ashamed to show it. You are ashamed of your flood, while others are ashamed of their ebb.”

The text was in German, all of it. He frowned at that, an idea creeping into his mind about what that might mean. He wouldn’t believe she’d leave like this and he certainly couldn’t believe that she’d go back, not to that life.

At the bottom of the page he found his explanation in minuscule handwriting, spaced to fit where the last line of typed text ended. He’d nearly missed it. “I’m choosing to be heartless so that you can keep yours.”

Bucky sat motionless for a moment, staring at the words, their meaning sinking in, realizing how long you’d been out there, how long ago you’d sent this. “We have to go. Now.”

* * *

“Y/N,” he breathed as you stumbled forward following the momentum of your swing, tripping into his chest. Bucky’s free arm wrapped quickly around you, to support you, instantly feeling the new hard thinness of your frame. You cried out involuntarily when his fingertips dug into the tender flesh over your ribcage where his grip was met with the warm sticky wetness he knew immediately as blood. It seeped through your shirt, which indicated deep and persistent wounds and caused Bucky to first recoil, regretting having caused you any more pain.

At the sound of your sharp cry, Bucky felt himself swell with anger, his jaw clenching tighter, but he slipped both arms down to your waist as gently as he could, but you recoiled quickly. He was unsure what to do when your eyes filled with terror and you began shoving weakly against him, wriggling in his hands, eyes wide and moist with unhindered tears. “No, no, no, no” you insisted, over and over.

He huffed out a soft breath of shock, pained at your frantic reaction, still holding you firmly. Your body, weakened from lack of blood and proper nutrition, made your efforts futile and costly. You tired quickly, sinking with a gasping sob, gripping Bucky’s forearms. “You can’t be here,” you breathed, looking straight ahead into his chest, failing to lift your gaze. “You can’t be–”

“Y/N,” he called softly, afraid to startle you, his lips parted for a long moment, horrified by how diminished you already seemed, how you could look afraid of _him_. “It’s okay, we’re here…”

“You can’t be here,” you repeated, like a mantra. He wondered if you recognized him at all and with growing fury what the hell they’d done to you. “Bucky…” you finally, slowly lifted your eyes to his. Those eyes that were once sharp and determined were now heavy and listless. “Please, you have to go. You should never have come here.”

“Bucky, have you got her?” Steve’s voice rang clear and loud through Bucky’s earpiece, he sounded out of breath. “It’s getting thick here, we need to hurry and get out.”

“Yeah, she’s here. We’re coming.” As soon as the words left his mouth you began pushing away again.

“No, Bucky, you have to go,” you were shoving at him, “Don’t you see, this was all for you. H-he… he wants you for… to use _you_. I’m just… the lure. You have to get out of here, now!”

“Not without you.” He didn’t give you another chance to protest, wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you out the door. He stooped to pick up a handgun from the guard at his feet in the hall, placing it into your hands.”I need you to take this, we’re both getting out of here. Right now.” You looked down the hall, stunned by the ferocity with which the bodies around you had been dispatched.

“Buck, we’re getting blocked in here, we need a hand,” Steve came over the comm again. “Sam, can you help clear us an exit from your side?”

Bucky paused a moment, glancing at you. You looked pale and scared. Defeated. There was no way you would make it through a room full of agents who had spent the last few weeks making a career out of terrorizing you, and definitely not with the series of stab wounds seeping blood, in part thanks to his own unrelenting grip on you reopening the untreated wounds.

“Steve we need an evac for Y/N,” he replied sternly, pressing his hand to the earpiece to open the channel, “Tony, can you pick her up from the roof in 5?”

“I’m a little busy for a rooftop rendez-vous right now, Barnes,” he groaned, Bucky shifted, unconsciously rolling his shoulders in irritation. “But I’ll tell you what, for you? Throw in an extra candle and I’ll be there in 15.”

Bucky bristled, biting his tongue and daring a glance at you. Steve’s voice crackled through the comm again urging Bucky that they needed him. Now. To send you to the roof to wait for Tony. He handed you the second earpiece he’d brought, having expected to find you more willing to make this escape.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he turned back to you, taking your face in his hands, “You need to get to the roof.”

“You shouldn’t be here…”

“It’s too late for that,” he tried to reason. _Fuck, she looks completely lost_ , he thought. “Please, Y/N. Get to the roof. The north stairwell should be mostly clear. Tony will get you out, I’m going to help the others and we’ll meet back at the jet. Can you do that?” He could hardly stand to leave, not now, not when you needed him. But so did his team, and you would be safe. He needed you to find the drive to go. “If you stay here this mission is wasted. It will all be for nothing and all of us will have risked our lives for you to hide here in the dark. Come home.” He stroked a hand through your hair, “Don’t run from us again. Don’t run from me.”

Your fingers curled around the back of his hand as you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. “I never ran from you, Bucky,” you whispered. “There’s so much blood on my hands… But I could never have yours on my hands too. I thought I was saving you.”

Bucky stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, drawing your attention again to those clear blue eyes, knit with concern and determination. “Listen to me, there will never be a situation where I will leave you like this. Ever. Not for my sake, or anyone else’s.” A small hint of a smile pulled at his lips. “So get your ass to that rooftop, keep this on and let’s just leave the channel open since you have a habit of not telling me when you’re in trouble,” he said, adjusting a setting on the earpiece and slipping it on your ear. You chuckled softly, the motion sent a dull ache through the unhealed tissue of your damaged lungs and the smile faded to a pained grimace. “…and don’t you ever pull something like this again.”

It took him by surprise when you brought both hands to his wrists, his hands still resting on your collarbones, cupping your neck, thumbs just reaching the edge of your jaw. You leaned up on your toes and kissed him softly, closing your eyes, frozen in the feel of his lips on yours again, his breath, warm and light on your face. You just needed to feel him for a moment, to remember him in a tangible way.

You feared what his presence here might mean, and felt both somehow comforted and terrified that he’d come. For now, you just wanted to freeze time, here where you were safe for a moment, together.

Now just inches apart, he couldn’t tear himself away either. “I’ve missed you,” you breathed. He felt the words, a whisper on his lips like a memory.

“Why the hell didn’t you come to me?”

“Because you shouldn’t be here at all!” you insisted with more energy than he’d expected.

Bucky sighed, looking down at your bare feet, the implication of those words hitting him like a fresh wave. You had run trying to protect him and hadn’t intended to make it out. He finally lifted his gaze back to you, more steady now and firm, “Well I’m here now. So just get to the rooftop so we can both get out. North stairwell.”

You nodded and turned, slipping out of his hands. He reluctantly let you go, watching with a small smirk as you naturally fell into that familiar stalking posture. Even like this, you were still you, still fearsome and powerful, if not stupidly reckless. You held the gun in front of you, elbows bent slightly, shoulders hunched, crouching, as you rounded the corner, ready for any attackers. You’d make it to the roof just fine. With that reassurance, Bucky turned back the way he’d come, to help his friends make their exit.

* * *

Bucky was right, the stairwell was mostly clear, and of course the path to the stair was completely clear. It was a little alarming, the bodies around you were decimated. Blood gathered in large mass pools seeping from the guards and agents sent to assail Bucky in his effort to find you. He’d clearly held nothing back.

Your legs began to feel weak and shaky beneath you as you ascended the stairs. Nearly there, but pushing with every effort, your body tired so quickly, fading from weeks of confinement and injury. As you rounded the 7th floor, you heard voices and positioned yourself a few feet before the door. When it swung open, revealing several agents in heavy tactical gear your foot immediately collided with the door, forcing it shut on the first operative, slamming his hand between the door and the wall. His weapon fell and you kicked it down the stairs behind you and began firing into the landing as the door bounced back open.

There were only three of them and luckily, they hadn’t been expecting you so you dispatched of them quickly. Climbing swiftly over the bodies, hands sifting through pockets and unzipping seams and buckles, you stole boots from one, and tucked a small sidearm into the gapping upper portion of the right boot before lacing it. You slipped down to the rifle you’d extracted from the first agent and shouldered it before continuing your ascent.

You indulged in a moment to relish the cool fresh air on your face when you stepped onto the rooftop before beginning your sweep. The cement barrier that rose to block the stairwell door from the elements shielded your view, so you took your coiled posture again, defensive and low, rounding the corner, your eyes following the barrel of your rifle, sweeping the length of the concrete surface for signs of a threat. When you found one your entire body froze, locked in place, the rifle trained expertly on his chest.

“Y/N! You made it.” You edged closer, eyes quickly scanning the remainder of the rooftop while keeping the gun trained on him. On the Commander.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re caught out during the rescue attempt and have to make a difficult decision that could cost you everything.

“Y/N! You made it,” the Commander grinned at you from his place on the rooftop near the helipad. Your heart thundered in your chest, sending blood rushing in your ears at a deafening volume, you must have looked brittle and deathly ashen, but you held your rifle steady, aimed with your normal fatal precision at his heart. “Did you bring your soldier this time, like we discussed?”

“He’s not here,” you fired back without a second of thought, your voice flat but stronger than you’d expected.

“Oh no point in lying to me, sweetheart,” he laughed heartily, “Of course he is.” A searing red streak drew your attention overhead. Tony. The Commander’s gaze followed the same trajectory as yours, watching the bright red suit sail closer and closer. “Though, I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting all of the Power Rangers.”

“What’s the story here, Y/N” Tony’s voice cut through the comm device in your ear, “Are you ready to go or are we staying for tea?” You didn’t answer, didn’t move an inch when Tony landed easily beside you, in a full Iron Man suit. You kept your eyes and your rifle trained on the Commander, knowing there was no way you would walk away so easily. He was far too relaxed for you to drop your guard.

“None of us will be here long, Mr. Stark.” He promised casually before turning back to you. “I didn’t expect all your new friends, but I did plan for them,” he sneered, pulling back the wings of his coat. “Insurance policy.”

Tony stepped back, palms extended forward in a gesture of compliance, while you pressed your eyes closed in frustration. He was completely strapped, explosives lining his coat from shoulder to knee. He held what you assumed to be the trigger, the sole button on the device already depressed under his thumb. You knew instantly what he meant by ‘insurance.’ If he lifted his thumb of off that trigger, the explosives would detonate. If you killed him, his thumb would slide off of the button and you’d go out in a blaze right beside him.

“Goodbye, Mr. Stark,” he nodded towards Tony, urging him to back off. “And Y/N you can drop that weapon now.”

You did as he asked and nodded your head to the side, signaling for Tony to follow the order when Tony looked at you for answers. “Looks like I’m staying for tea,” you mumbled, utterly exhausted.

Tony paused for a moment, taking in your tired smile, feeling not the least bit assured by it. You couldn’t see the frown through his mask, but you could hear it in his defeated sigh before he set off into the air again. Seconds later you heard his voice over the comm to the group, “Guys, we’ve got a problem.”

“What do you mean ‘problem’? Where’s Y/N?” You tried to block out Bucky’s voice, focusing on the situation unfolding in front of you.

“Bring me the soldier,” the Commander hissed at you, glancing to the sky, to make sure Tony didn’t return and to look for his own ride out.

“How do you _still_ not get this?” you spat back, edging forward and circling around him. He might have all the cards and you might be exhausted and frantic, but you weren’t ready to give up. You continued to push, pacing forward, forcing him back, leading him south. “That’s never going to happen.”

He sighed heavily, tilting his head and rolling his eyes, looking positively bored. “Why do you always have to make things so difficult?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone, he held the screen out for you to see, it was a digital blueprint of the building, with pulsing orbs at strategic structural junctions. “Call your soldier or I will blow this entire building and all of your new pals with it. You know I don’t bluff, Y/N. I will do this. Casualties are nothing to me.”

You paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, ignoring the sharp pain that fired across your ribs when you did. You needed a moment to weigh your options, to calculate what he had done, where the team might be now, and what you could do. The weight of the stolen handgun you’d stashed in your boot felt like an anchor as the solution unfolded before you. There was only one wild card to deal with first: Bucky.

“Bucky, where are you?” your voice was thin and soft.

“First floor. I’m heading for the stairs now, just…” he paused and you heard the whir of his metal arm and the grunt of an apparent assailant. “Just keep him talking, I’m coming for you.”

First floor. Judging by the length of the coat and the thickness of the packs of explosives, you estimated the blast radius would be about 5 stories. Very general estimate. You needed to be quick or Bucky would be caught in the fire.

“Nat,” you called more sternly, “Get everyone out. Now. You heard him, it’s all rigged. Whether we give him what he wants or not, nothing will survive this place once he’s out of range.” A sickening hatred crept through you, twisting your stomach in knots as he smiled at your words, confirming your guess.

“I’m on it.” A brief sense of relief fluttered across your mind when you heard the Quinjet powering up in the distance, giving you new confidence.

“Bucky?” you tried to keep your voice even, calm. The Commander smiled wider, expecting you to lead Bucky to the roof, as he’d demanded.

“Yeah, I’m here. Hang on.”

“That includes you.” As you spoke the words, you dropped onto your left knee, reaching for the pistol tucked into your boot. Your left hand gripped the barrel as you rose, pulling a bullet into the chamber in the same fluid motion that brought your aim to the row of explosives covering the Commander’s chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded sharply, “You’ll kill us both.” He looked genuinely confused as you stepped closer, edging him further south, further away from the north stairwell where you knew Bucky would be ascending, where he’d be edging ever closer to the blast zone with every passing second. “Every minute of your life has been spent battering into your skull that self-preservation is first, then the mission. You won’t do this.”

A slow and wicked smile tugged at the corner of your mouth, enjoying the fear dancing behind his eyes. He was suddenly questioning himself, questioning you. “I’m not the scared little girl that you read about in that file,” you seethed. “You make everyone believe that you don’t bluff, that you’ll risk anything, but that’s not quite true, is it? You simply don’t believe in risks, you think you know exactly what move everyone around you will make.”

“Well, people are predictable,” he agreed cautiously, “Especially people like you, and your Winter Soldier. There are entire files on how to handle him, and you, if you know where to look.”

Determined not to be deterred again by promises of a file you’d never see, you pressed on, “You genuinely believed you would live through this didn’t you? You strapped that bomb to your chest truly believing there was no risk to it, because you were _positive_ I would never take this shot.” You took three more quick steps forward and he stumbled back. “Still sure about that?”

“You won’t do this. You’re a shadow.”

“No, I’m not,” you answered, threateningly quiet and even. There was no venom in your voice because you didn’t need it, not this time. You knew it wasn’t true. The Commander had proven it for you again and again with the string of executions he’d laid at your feet while you were imprisoned here. It was painful and you couldn’t shut the memory of each one out of your head. “We were monsters, you and me. So much blood. But I _will_ do this for all of the things that I’ve done… I can do the right thing and for once in my life I can be good.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Bucky cried into your earpiece, “Just wait! We’ll… Fuck! I don’t know, we’ll do something, just…”

“Nat is everyone clear?” You edged forward a few more steps, stopping beside the concrete barrier to the south stairwell.

“Yeah,” she answered quietly, a gentle sadness in her voice. “Yeah, we’re clear. Just Bucky in the north stairwell”

“Y/N! No!” Bucky bellowed into the comm, huffing as he ran up the stairs two at a time, “What the hell are you doing?!” You needed to be quick, Bucky would be within the blast radius in a matter of minutes.

“Bucky please,” you whimpered, tears building in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refused to let it weaken your resolve. “I’m doing this for you and for me. He won’t stop, but if you live, all of you, it will be like I get to be… like I’m a part of the good things you’ll do.”

You were surprised by the tightness in your throat as you drew in a sharp breath. You’d planned to be steel, to be strong and determined, like you were when you left the compound, but this… Hearing Bucky’s voice pleading in your ear as you tried to say goodbye… it was torment. You loved Bucky so damn much, it was agonizing to let go. Again. “Let me do this, Bucky. Let me choose. I won’t be selfish this time. Let me be good.”

“You could never be good,” the Commander sneered, desperate to rile you into coldness and self-preservation, to let go of whatever humanity you were holding onto right now, whatever sentiment was driving you to this reckless determination. He scowled at the tears rolling down your cheeks and off of your chin, “This is who you are, a killer. You will be _cold_!” He began shouting, “You will be _merciless_!”

He had been counting on you to crumble, and glared at you, furious that you had surprised him. He had never actually been willing to blow the building while he still stood atop it because he never expected you to call his bluff, and he certainly never expected that you’d be willing to blow it up, yourself.

“Oh no,” you whispered with so much cool malice that he took a step back, “This _is_ mercy, that we get to die in a flash. We who have so much blood on our hands, we who have caused so much pain. You know that people like us never retire. This is the cleanest death either of us could hope for.”

Your hand came to wipe a bitter tear from your cheek as Bucky’s voice crackled through your comm. “Y/N stop talking like that, I’m on my way. You’re okay! It’s going to be alright…” He paused a moment, waiting for your answer, but you had pressed your eyes closed, wishing it would quiet the pain in his voice. “Please. I love you, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

“Where are you, Bucky?” your voice was cold with resolve.

“3rd floor, just hold on!”

Still two floors from the blast radius, it was enough. It had to be now. “Thank you, Bucky,” you sighed softly, it was a sort of relief to know that you would at least go out doing the right thing for the only people you had ever really loved, the only people who had ever believed you could be more than a shadow and a weapon. “Thank you for reminding me that I still have a choice.”

“Y/N! Don’t…” his voice was quiet and rough.

“I love you, Bucky.”

* * *

Bucky heard the metallic click of the trigger, immediately followed by the sharp clap of the gunfire and he froze. For a fraction of a second, everything stopped. Then he heard the echoing thunder of the explosives detonating and the walls around him shook. He dropped to his knees in disbelief as the dust from the shuddering concrete around him settled on his shoulders.

He stared at the ground, still gripping the handrail, stunned and horrified, wondering how he’d let this happen. He’d had you, held you right here minutes ago. He’d had you at his side and he’d let you slip away, no he’d pushed you there, to the roof, to this. And now…

Bucky was vaguely aware of Steve’s voice in his earpiece, shouting for his location, begging him to respond, “Buck! Where the hell are you? We’ve got to go!”

He managed to haul himself to his feet and begin climbing the stairs again. He moved with the same urgent speed, but there was an immeasurable heaviness to each step now, a weight radiating from his chest and dragging every motion into a slow and daunting push. “3rd floor, heading up.”

“Buck, no! Get back to the jet, if the building’s rigged, that blast might have compromised the other explosives,” Steve reasoned. “You can’t…”

Bucky tore the earpiece away, unwilling to hear “can’t”s and “don’t”s. Climbing higher and higher with increasingly long strides, he finally burst onto the rooftop. A reckless persistence drove his every step as he approached the crumbling concrete cavity on the south side of the building.

“She was over here,” Tony called, the thrusters in his feet igniting as he hoisted a twisted I-beam out of his path. Bucky stood, staring for a moment, taking in the wreckage. “She fired and dove behind the stairwell cover. There wasn’t much time, but… She might have had a little cover, maybe avoided the fire from the blast.” He groaned with the effort of lifting a large chunk of concrete. “Little help here?”

Immediately snapping out of his daze, Bucky jumped to the piece Tony was working on and together they lifted it away, small rocks and dust crumbling into the shattered building below. They moved a few pieces like that, together, ignoring the calls of the team, until Tony finally snapped for them to go investigate the explosives if they were so damn worried about them.

“Tony!” Bucky reached for Stark’s wrist, encased in his suit, metal meeting metal as Bucky’s eyes locked on the opening beneath the piece of rubble they’d just extracted. It was a tangle of your hair, coated in thick grey dust.

Bucky immediately began pulling at every piece he could find before Tony stopped him, “Okay, okay! Easy, Barnes!” he insisted, pushing Bucky back with open palms on his shoulders, despite Bucky’s furious glare. As far as Bucky was concerned nothing and no one would keep him from you, not for one second longer than need be. His skin itched and his brain burned just to see you, see that you were alive, if you would be okay.

“She’s not conscious and we don’t know if she’s pinned or how badly injured, we need to take this slow so the structure doesn’t collapse on her,” Tony tried to reason with the icy blue stare Bucky leveled on him, unsatisfied with a slow pace. Bucky shifted on his feet, staring down at this first hint of you. His own impatience drove the muscle in his jaw to tick and his fists to repeatedly clench and unclench before he finally nodded his acquiescence.

After a few minutes they had freed enough of you for Bucky to reach your face, to run his fingers over your debris covered skin and wish that his touch was enough to wake you, but it wasn’t. Tony scanned for vitals: you had a pulse, you were breathing, though shallow and ragged, probable collapsed lung, multiple contusions, lacerations, and fractures. Brain scan showed only beta waves, low Glasgow Coma Score, which F.R.I.D.A.Y. coldly informed, meant likely brain and/or spinal trauma. In short, they needed to be delicate in moving you or anything around you.

* * *

Initially Steve had doubted that you could possibly have survived the blast, and wanting to spare his friend, tried to get the team out. But now that he knew you were alive, there was no leaving without the entire team, you included. Knowing you’d need immediate medical intervention this time, and couldn’t wait for the flight back to the compound, he had Nat call in local emergency medical ASAP and a bomb squad to deal with the possible explosives remaining in the building. At the request for bomb disposal the local military swarmed the facility, scooping up any of the Commander’s employees who hadn’t already scattered at the sound of the explosion.

While the team worked on getting you out, Nat hunted through the facility for your passport, about the only thing that would keep you out of international incarceration after being involved in a bombing. She found it. And a file. An old one, with your photo and the words “Тень Проект” in familiar red lettering across the cover. _Shadow Project._

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your future after the dangerous decision you made on the rooftop, and an unexpected glimpse into your past when Natasha peaks into the file she found.

For the second time in the few months since you’d first run into Natasha again, you woke to a screaming pain radiating through your shoulder as you returned to consciousness. The steady beeping of the heart monitor increased as you became more aware of the pain crying out all over your body.

Your side continued to ache where the Commander had slipped his slender knife between your ribs, but now the pain radiated over your torso with every breath. A dull ache rippling beneath a pattern of deep bruising. Exhaustion held an entirely new meaning. Every muscle ached when you slowly tried testing a few of them, checking for mobility. Finding yourself mostly free you tried to will yourself to move, hoping that if you sat up more, the shrieking pain in your shoulder would subside.

As your eyes fluttered open, Nat immediately jumped up from her chair in the corner, silently stepping closer, her sharp eyes flashing over to the crumpled form beside you. You glanced down to your side to find Bucky, dead asleep, a mess of tangled dark hair covering his face and creeping over your blanket. His head rested on crossed forearms beside you on the hospital bed and you bit back a small grateful smile, knowing how exhausted he must be. It was clear from the thick scruff on his jaw and the fact that he could fall asleep in such a precarious way, that he hadn’t left your side, not for days.

Days. You’d been here for days…

“He’s been a complete nightmare,” Nat whispered with a grin, “Make him get some real sleep, would you?”

Your fingers found their way to the edges of his hair, fanning the soft pieces over the blanket. You gave a small nod and asked where you were.

“Still in Dresden,” she replied stepping toward the door. Bucky stirred at the sound of her voice. “You needed a triage unit after that stunt. You’re lucky you’re alive at all. We’ll get you on the quinjet and back to a cradle as soon as you’re cleared to fly.”

You nodded, brushing your fingers through the hair covering Bucky’s face, pushing it back as gently as you could. There was no need to wake him, he was clearly exhausted.

“Nat?” You called softly before she could slip out of the room. She hummed her acknowledgement while turning back to you, half way through the door. “Did you find… you didn’t find a file, did you?”

Your eyes stayed locked on her, but you were so tired and the narcotics dampening the pain also dampened your senses. She frowned slightly but shook her head once, “No, I’m sorry. Just your records while you were there and the ID you came in with.”

She paused long enough to watch whether you’d accept her words as truth, satisfied with your sigh, “Must’ve had it on him then.” When your head fell back to the pillow she slid out into the hall.

* * *

 

_**The Day of the Rescue** _

_Natasha had tucked the Shadow Project file inside a more generic manila envelope along with Y/N’s ID and a small hard drive carrying more recent digital records from the secure network as she left the location, climbing quickly into the ambulance with Y/N and Bucky._

_“Medical records,” she’d lied coolly, well partial lie. At the hospital they’d rushed Y/N into surgery so quickly that they hadn’t bothered to ask about any medical history. Once the rest of the team settled into relative normalcy for the next few hours until there would be more news from the surgeons, Natasha slipped into an empty patient room and closed the door behind her. She made sure she was well hidden from view before opening the envelope and removing the file that was of most interest to her._

_The heavy weight of a most bitter nostalgia washed over her as she ran her fingertips over the lettering on the cover, taking a moment to brace herself for the memories that the contents would surely conjure. Taking a quick, deep breath, she flipped the folder open._

_On the left side the intake form was pinned to the cover with the essential information, a photo of Y/N as a young girl, and a brief summary. It included her name, one Natasha hadn’t heard in years, a description of her appearance at intake and a line that made Natasha pause, confused and startled._

> Prisoner status: Political leverage; in custody for ~~temporary holding.~~ active training.

_Natasha continued poring over the page, fighting the reeling thoughts that led her in every direction while trying to reconcile this record with what she remembered. All of it impossible. Her brow furrowed, and her eyes darted over the words until she finally made it to the “Reason for Transfer.” Y/N had never been alone and orphaned like the other “widows,” she was connected to a powerful family, presumably taken for leverage. But prisoners weren’t kept at the Red Room, agents were created._

_Desperate for more information, Natasha glanced to the right half of the folder, thick with the many pages she quickly recognized as mission reports. She knew somewhere there lived a similar file with her own name, and her own stack of red ink that marked missions “complete” and their targets “deceased.”_

_Closing her eyes against the memories, Natasha lifted the intake form, finding beneath it an incident report that confirmed her own knowledge: girls in the Red Room were only ever made into agents or they were dispatched. Y/N’s presence as a prisoner was unprecedented and had only been meant as a temporary holding situation. It was a standard tactic to avoid hostage detection and discovery: constantly change the location of the prisoner. One minute it could be an underground bunker in Siberia, the next an experimental biomedical facility for girls, who knows what was meant to come next. Some staff there, unaware of Y/N’s status as a temporary prisoner had pushed her into a training program._

_Natasha slunk into the chair in the room with the file open on her lap. She knew the rest, remembered when Y/N had been shoved into her training room looking terrified and utterly silent, but following every order to the letter. It all made sense now. Of course she followed the orders without a second thought, she had no choice. She’d probably been carted from facility to facility for weeks, with nothing but harsh orders and brutal hands. Her silence and obedience had inspired this “Shadow Project,” and the program’s patented implanted memories did the rest of the work to help Y/N forget the life she’d held onto before._

_Letting the intake form drift back on top of the incident report, Nat remained stone still, only her eyes casually scanning the page as it settled back to its place. The words didn’t really sink in, she wasn’t really reading until her eyes danced across two words in particular. Зимний Cолдат. She lurched forward reading the line again and again, her mouth falling slightly open in horror._

> Transferred from: Custody of the Winter Soldier by order of Vasily Karpov (HYDRA, Siberia)

_With shaking hands and frantic, tearful eyes, Natasha decided quickly. She resolved to let this join the host of secrets and memories that would die with her. Y/N needed Bucky, and he wasn’t the Winter Soldier who had been programmed to follow Karpov’s orders, including this transfer order. Neither of them could see this. The guilt would eat Bucky alive and the idea that Y/N had a life she’d been torn from and a family who’d left her to this would ignite a new rage that Nat could never hope to contain._

_Acting quickly, she tore the intake form and incident report from the folder before tucking the remainder of the file back into the large manilla envelope. The two reports she laid carefully in the sink before grabbing the canister of rubbing alcohol from the counter and dousing the pages. She watched the ink swirl off the pages and down the drain, dragging with it her own fear and shock. The dread she had instantly felt at reading that line was quietly replaced with a calm that she couldn’t quite call relief._

_She knew intrinsically that this information needed to disappear, she wished she had never learned of it herself, and carried a heavy responsibility to make sure no one else ever learned of it either. She rinsed the pages clean of any ink before shredding them and shoving the pieces into the slot for biohazardous sharps. If some janitor saw the tarnished scraps of paper there, he or she wouldn’t dare reach for them. The rest she’d have to dispose of elsewhere, she’d been gone too long already._

* * *

 

Y/N’s question weighed on Natasha’s mind with a gentle sadness. She had never lied to Y/N before, and didn’t like to now, but she couldn’t go back now. The file was destroyed, and would bring nothing but torment.

“Why’d you lie about the file?”

Natasha sighed heavily, turning to Tony, who was comfortably seated in the chair just outside Y/N’s door. “You know, most people consider it rude to eavesdrop,” she murmured.

“Like I’m not going to take a chance to hear what you three could possibly have to say to each other,” he continued fidgeting with his watch. “You three are like those little Russian nesting dolls with all your secrets. Endless.”

“I like that,” Nat deflected, turning to leave, “Maybe I’ll call her Mатрёшка from now on.”

“Hey! I was talking to you!” He followed her quickly down the hall. “When are you going to tell her about that file?”

“I’m not,” she hissed, giving Tony a harsh warning look. “There is no file. Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Good?” She stopped short, turning to him with crossed arms. “Tony Stark, King Know-It-All thinks it’s ‘good’ that there’s something he’ll never know?”

“ _King Know-It-All?_ That’s what you’re–?” he scoffed as she raised one teasing eyebrow. He shook his head in mild irritation. “I can’t imagine there’s anything but grief in that file. I think some things are better left in the past, that’s all. I think I would know.”

The surprised widening of Natasha’s eyes lasted only a split second before her usual calm, restrained smile returned. Apparently he’d had enough of surprises hidden in HYDRA files. She squeezed his hand softly before continuing her route down the hall, “I couldn’t agree more.”

* * *

 

Bucky stirred at the sound of Natasha’s voice. His muscles ached from having fallen asleep leaning over you bed. He knew he should go get cleaned up get some real sleep, but even when Natasha came to sit with you and he finally made it to his hotel room nearby, he never found a deep enough sleep. He’d wake with a start, your voice echoing in his ears before that memory of the heavy metallic click of your pistol forced his eyes open in an instant. At least in his restless sleep he could escape the sound that followed: that thundering eruption that he’d been unable to stop or save you from.

Steve and, surprisingly, Tony had told him repeatedly over the last few days while you were in and out of surgeries or unconscious in you room or sliding into MRI machines and X-Ray rooms, that you’d done a brave thing, that he should give you the dignity of your choice, no matter what came of it in the end. But he found himself watching you with a simmering anger.

He was angry with himself for sending you to that rooftop alone. He was angry with you for making such a carelessly fatal decision. He was angry with Steve for being so ready to leave you there. He was livid with Natasha for helping you pull it all off - for confirming when the building was clear, giving you the green light to self-destruct.

He was angry but he was also devastated and afraid. He wanted you back so badly, needed you to open your eyes and remember him, know him. There weren’t many people who could know with a look what he was thinking or when he needed space. There weren’t many people who had been used like the two of you had, who were trying to rebuild like you were, to recover some humanity and he craved that closeness with you.

He wanted you to open your eyes and look at him the way you only ever looked at _him_ , with clear and honest eyes. He wanted to feel you curled beneath his arm, or let him shield you from the hostility of those who would never really see you for who you were trying to be.

Not that you ever really let anyone stand for you when you could do it yourself, he thought with a smirk, rubbing the back of his neck, head still bent down, his hair, falling like a curtain around his face. When he heard your softly whispered “Hi,” he froze for a moment. He thought he must have dreamt it, like he’d been remembering your voice for days. But in his nightmares your voice was resolute and clear. Just now it was faint and fragile.

“Hi,” he answered, rough and heavy from too short a sleep. He shifted quickly so that he was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed beside you, before he recovered some semblance of normal thought processing. “I… Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?” he fired off quickly, realizing he should probably call for a doctor.

You nodded, tired eyes holding his gaze, the blue an icy storm tempered only with caution and fear. “Well Nat said we’re still in Dresden,” you trailed off quietly, looking down at your hands. “I don’t remember how I got _here_ , exactly… But I remember… I remember your voice.”

Bucky reached forward, slipping his fingers over the side of your neck, thumb ghosting comforting sweeps over your cheek while he leaned toward you, resting his forehead on yours. He just _needed_ to touch you, to hold you closer in some way, though he was cognizant enough to be gentle. You’d been lost to him for days and the doctors had warned repeatedly that there was no way to tell what or who you might remember, if there would be lasting impact from the head trauma you’d suffered.

“You sounded so… scared,” you continued as he nodded, taking in a deep breath and holding it for a moment.

“You were saying goodbye,” he breathed and you closed your eyes, embracing the closeness, how his breath tickled your face, how tightly he held you, how your own hand had come to rest on top of his.

“I thought it was goodbye.”

“Damn, I love you, Y/N,” he began, “But I could kill you. Why didn’t you wait for me? You could have… You were _this close_ to dying out there.”

“I know.”

“Do you?!” his face drew away from yours, though his fingers remained curled around the back of your neck, like he couldn’t stand to let go of you now, but his eyes were boring into you with so much anger, it left you speechless. “You live like you’re invincible! Are you done yet? With this… whatever this search for redemption is? Or revenge or whatever it is that keeps driving you into these reckless situations?”

You were silent, chewing on your lip, suddenly seeing the string of disastrous decisions you’d made the way Bucky must see them. Though in truth, you considered this one a success: Bucky was alive, and free, and safe, as was the rest of the team, and the Commander couldn’t claim to be a single one of those things. But seeing Bucky’s anger also let you see his pain. How you’d hurt him while trying to save him from the monsters of your own past. He needed to get this out, and you needed to listen.

“Because I can’t…” He paused and his thumb began sweeping over your cheek again. Whether the gesture was meant to comfort you or him was unclear. “I can’t sit here and watch you throw it all away again and again. I love you. God damn it, Y/N. I want to be with you, but you have to decide that being with me is more important than your vendetta. That _you_ are more important than this vendetta!”

“This wasn’t revenge, Bucky. I did this for _you_ ,” you pleaded. “I needed to end it if there was any chance for you. For us, if I lived through it…” He didn’t seem convinced, and you couldn’t blame him. Your excuses sounded thin even on your own ears.

Your fingertips slipped over his jaw, your hands resting on either side of his face, forcing him to look you in the eye. “No more redemption. I promise. I’m here, Bucky. This is what I want.”

You let your hands slip from his face, over his neck, taking fistfuls of his shirt to pull yourself closer, as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. His arms glided over your shoulders, wrapping over your back and pressing you close as gently as he could, but the pressure made you wince at the pain of angling your newly repaired shoulder, and the ache of the bruises mapping their blue and yellow progress across your torso.

“M’sorry,” Bucky mumbled against the top of your head, releasing you slowly. You shook your head to dismiss the superfluous apology, but he stood from the bed anyway, “I should call a doctor now that you’re awake. See if we can get you home.” He leaned forward to press a soft and lingering kiss to your forehead.

Needing more of him, not wanting him to leave even for a second, your hand flew to the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to meet your lips in a slow and deep, I’ve-missed-you-so-fucking-much kiss. His lips pressed against yours, shifting as you pulled hungrily for his. The warmth that radiated across your skin was addicting, you’d missed it so desperately, missed him.

You felt him lean forward, guiding you back against your bed. He pulled away slowly, hovering over you for a moment before promising to return with a doctor. “Y/N?” he paused at the door waiting for your humming reply. “If you ever do something like this again, there will be a line of angry Avengers with a lot to say about it.”

You laughed softly at his half-serious warning, his plea to you not to go around sacrificing yourself for others. “So _this_ is what Sergeant Barnes looks like,” you teased. “Very bossy.”

“That’s an order,” he smirked, playing along with your teasing.

“Yeah, well, you know me. I don’t take orders.”

As tired as he looked, you absolutely loved the slightly irritated grin that made its way across his face, starting in one corner of his mouth and creeping across his entire face. That smile that you thought you’d never see again. You’d given that smile up twice and now that you were seeing it again, you couldn’t imagine ever finding the strength to give it up again.

_**Months Later** _

“Look, Barnes,” you taunted Bucky as he lay flat on the ground, rifle pressed to his shoulder, making minuscule adjustments to his aim. “I think you’re going to have to give it up and admit that I’m the better shot.”

He exhaled a slow, steady breath, squeezing the trigger. You smiled when the shot fired and you heard the bullet sink into the paper target. “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Lifting the binoculars to your eyes, you looked down the range, a long way down the range, looking for his fresh bullet hole in the target. Damn. Just barely to the left of your own.

“You’re pretty good, with your self-adjusting scopes that do all the work for you,” he teased, carrying both your weapons to the next lane, for a longer shot. “But where would you be if that thing cracked? Or the wiring was fried?”

You rolled your eyes, this was the perpetual argument between the two of you about your favorite field weapons. He refused to accept that modern technology would come through reliably in the field, and preferred his careful but slow calculations and a simple rifle. You’d been at this for half an hour already, you’d bet a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and dibs on a pristine new semi-automatic handgun for the next mission to the winner of this shooting match.

Your competition was cut short, though, when Tony called your name on his way to the helipad. “Let’s go! We’ve got a party to crash!”

You smirked at his choice of words, it was hardly a party, but you were going to crash it anyway. Bucky reached for your waist as you set your weapon down, pulling your entire body flush with his, his hands firmly holding your hips. “Be careful,” he managed between several greedy, rushed kisses. He swatted your ass as you slipped out of his grip and headed for the helicopter.

“Who won?” Sam hollered, from the other end of the yard.

“Too soon to tell!”

“Damn it, Y/N, I’ve got a free lunch riding on this!” he shouted back, “You better not lose to Regarding Henry over there!”

You shook your head laughing at Sam’s endless supply of disparaging nicknames for Bucky.

“This is serious, Y/N!” He shouted back, “That’s my lunch!”

Fully armed and seated opposite Tony in the helicopter, you peered out of the window as the craft approached the target location. You weren’t at all surprised that Tony would take a phone call seconds from the start of a mission, while the machinery around him clicked his suit into place. You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance, but quickly snapped to attention when you heard his greeting.

“Secretary Ross, I’m a little busy, what do you need?”

“Cut the shit, Tony,” Ross’s voice rang through the helicopter’s speakers. You tilted your head with an amused expression at his irritated tone. “Three days ago in Morocco your team was spotted with an unknown acquisition. Who the hell is she? You know we need to be informed of any additions to the Avengers team.”

“Three days ago? Nope, sorry. I don’t know what you mean…”

“Stark, if it’s this mystery bomber from Germany, she’s wanted for questioning.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We took a vacation to see the sights after a very stressful mission in Dresden.”

“Tony, don’t–!”

“Yep, gotta go. Sorry I couldn’t help, sounds like you’re chasing a shadow.” The satisfied grin that lit up Tony’s face as he winked at you was impossible to avoid. You laughed softly, shaking your head in disbelief at Tony’s utter disregard for traditional authority. Admiring it, really.

“You ready?” He nodded toward you, pulling open the door to the helicopter for you. “No galactically stupid and rash decisions right? I _really_ don’t want to have to call Barnes in to pick you up…”

You shoved him lightly backward into the helicopter for his insolent teasing. Before you stepped forward to dive from the helicopter, you turned back to him with an easy grin, “Don’t worry, I’ll be good.”


End file.
